


All But One

by BeginToFray



Series: (Issues) We've got the kind of love it takes to solve them. [8]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Minor Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-17 11:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeginToFray/pseuds/BeginToFray
Summary: It's Christmas time. Eve and Villanelle have been invited to a party at Carolyn's country house for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Drunk Arsehole

**Author's Note:**

> Back again! Every time I think I have written these two out of my system, some stray scene rocks up in my mind and becomes a whole story. Most of this is written already, so I aim to post regularly. Alright guys, let's do this. 
> 
> Emotions and alcohol don't mix, people. Keep that in mind over this holiday period.

Every now and then Eve was reminded of how much her life had changed in such a relatively short amount of time. OK, so perhaps she realised that fact more frequently than just every now and then, but at this very moment she was struck particularly potently by how different her life had become from what it had been just one year earlier.

She was leaning against a bar in a rowdy but high-end establishment in Central London nursing her fourth – or was it fifth? – glass of wine and surveying a crowd of gyrating co-workers. It was the Dreaded Office Christmas Party. An event like none other when it came to seeing colleagues in a new light, witnessing the office organisms in the wild. It was always…illuminating and uncomfortable. The wine was getting her through, but it was also lowering her into a pit of hazy nostalgia.

This time last year, Niko had been by her side, swirling half a beer around in its bottle and chatting amiably with anybody who came over to wish seasons greetings to Eve, who was respected and liked in her position. Bill had been matching Eve drink for drink and then dragged her out onto the dance floor – somewhere that was certainly not her natural habitat – to throw some enthusiastic shapes to the obligatory ABBA number that came on towards the end of the evening. 

God, thinking of Bill still felt like a stab wound to Eve. She could weep if she let herself. Perhaps it was her mind’s way of trying to find some peace with her own actions, but she even thought – and it wasn’t a healthy thought, not really – that Bill could potentially have liked her new partner if life hadn’t taken the turn that it had. If Bill hadn’t followed Villanelle into that club in Berlin, if he was beside her now, watching Villanelle across the room dancing by herself, he would get a kick out of her coordinated flailing. Eve could convince herself that Bill would be amused by Villanelle, by her quirks and characteristics. He would enjoy her blunt truths and lack of filter. Bill, despite appearances, was a surprisingly free man, an accepting one. He was a good man and he hadn’t deserved the death he had received. 

No, whichever way Eve painted it, she couldn’t reconcile that moment in her mind. The churning consumption of horror she felt when she imagined the last sight Bill probably saw; Villanelle’s white teeth glinting through her smile across the crowd in that club, a beacon of oncoming destruction. Eve took another swig of her wine.

Across the room, Villanelle executed a particularly elaborate spin, throwing a wide grin at Eve and forcing the other occupants of the dance floor to step back hastily to avoid being flicked by the fan of her loose hair. Eve returned her smile as warmly as she could manage. If it had been up to Eve then they wouldn’t be here tonight. But Villanelle, her shiny new email address now on the staff mailing list, had received the email detailing the time and location for this year’s Christmas Party and she had wanted to attend. She had wanted to dance. The Twelve had never thrown Christmas Parties she had told Eve with an exaggerated pout.

“Jesus, she’s an animal.” Elena said, suddenly at Eve’s side and following her distracted gaze to the dance floor before dropping herself onto a stool next to Eve at the bar. 

“She’s… pretty uninhibited, yes.” Eve agreed, “I hadn’t actually seen her dance before.” She admitted.

“Well, it’s quite a sight.” Elena replied, turning her attention to the bar and ordering a gin and tonic. 

And she was right. Villanelle had an unrivalled style when it came to dancing, as it turned out. She could be immediately spotted within the throng of those drunk enough to get to their feet, but not so drunk that they couldn’t. Her movements were primal and abandoned. Eve supposed she shouldn’t be surprised really; everything about Villanelle was that way. 

“No Kenny tonight?” Eve asked, taking her eyes from Villanelle who was now almost convulsing to the beat, oblivious to everything around her for once. 

“Nah, not really his thing, is it?” Elena replied, taking a long sip of her drink and leaning back against the bar. “Christ Eve, is she drunk or something?” She asked, once again watching Villanelle.

“Oh, no, actually. Oksana doesn’t really drink a lot. She’s only had a glass of champagne.” Eve explained.

“Makes sense.” Elena nodded. Eve looked over at her, confused. 

“Does it?” she asked.

“Well, her file said her dad was a drunk, didn’t it?” Elena replied questioningly. 

Eve had entirely forgotten that. At the time, when she had been wholly submerged in tracking Villanelle, those snippets of information had been like flakes of gold in a pan of river silt. But then the waters had got murkier and murkier and truths dissolved into lies until she doubted any of those so-called facts had been genuine. Fools gold for those stupid enough to covet it. 

“It… Yeah, it did.” Eve said haltingly.

“Have you never asked her about her past?” Elena questioned incredulously, “I thought you would have quizzed her for hours by now. I mean, babe, you were obsessed with that woman.”

“I have asked!” Eve exclaimed and then took a soothing glug of wine, successfully emptying the glass. “She doesn’t like to talk about it.” She muttered defensively.

“I guess that’s not surprising. Must have been bleak as fuck.” Elena reasoned, knocking back the remainder of her drink. “Come on, we better drink up if we want to be able to match that maniac on the dance floor.” She added, turning back to the bar and raising her hand.

“Oh. I don’t think I want—” Eve started, glancing over her shoulder to try and halt Elena’s beckoning of the barman. 

“Are you going to dance with me, baby?” 

Eve turned back around abruptly as she felt Villanelle slink a hand down her arm and catch a hold of her fingers, giving her hand a gentle shake. How does she always appear out of nowhere like that? And how was she not even out of breath?

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Eve chuckled, linking her fingers with Villanelle’s and smiling apologetically at her.

“I dunno about that,” Elena shot over her shoulder, still leaning on the bar and waiting for their drinks.

“Oh yes?” Villanelle asked with interest, responding to Elena but raising an intrigued eyebrow at Eve.

“Eve here can move when she wants to,” Elena confirmed, nudging Eve with her shoulder and then immediately glancing warily at Villanelle. But Villanelle didn’t react to the shoulder nudge; she was patiently waiting for Elena to elaborate. 

“Oh yeah,” Elena continued, her confidence bolstered by the fact that she had touched Eve in front of Villanelle and not been slashed, “At the Christmas Party last year—”

“Elena…” Eve warned.

“Ssshh baby, I want to hear about how well you can move.” Villanelle said, shaking her shoulders suggestively and squeezing Eve’s hand softly in her own. 

Elena finally turned around fully and handed Eve a fresh glass of wine, which Eve then lifted immediately to her lips, Villanelle’s eyes tracking its movement like a seasoned predator.

“Last year, Eve got so smashed,” Elena laughed and Villanelle’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “She was proper owning that dance floor. Seriously, Villanelle, you should have seen it.” Elena was laughing through her words, remembering how everyone had formed a circle to witness the spectacle of Eve and Bill drunkenly throwing down to Dancing Queen. 

“Interesting. I did not think The Moustache would be able to dance,” Villanelle said thoughtfully.

“The Moustache?” Elena queried, a baffled look on her face before realisation hit, “Oh, Niko? Jesus, no. That guy was stiff as a board. It was Eve and Bill.” 

The name hit the floor like a dead weight. Eve pulled her hand from Villanelle’s and ran it through her hair instead. The room was suddenly too loud and too hot and too full of memories and it was all combining into a heavy fog, fuzzy with wine at the edges and Eve needed to… she just needed to…

“I’m just going to pop to the loo.” Eve said, slipping from the bar stool she had been seated on and stumbling slightly having forgotten she was in heels. Or it could have been the wine. Villanelle grabbed her elbow and steadied her on her feet.

“Thanks,” Eve said quickly, flashing a half-hearted smile at Villanelle, and then disappearing towards the corridor to the toilets on the other side of the room.

“Shit.” said Elena regretfully, watching Eve’s retreating back. Villanelle hummed and nodded slowly. 

“We do not talk about him.” She said blankly. 

“Obviously.” Elena bit back bravely. “Are you going to go after her?”

“To the bathroom?” Villanelle asked confusedly, “No?” she added, as though that should be obvious. Elena rolled her eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She sighed, “Watch our drinks.” Then she too headed in the direction of the toilets.

Friendships are very strange things, Villanelle decided, Eve is a grown woman, she doesn’t need a friend to take her to the bathroom. Villanelle lifted herself gracefully onto the barstool that Eve had just vacated. She didn’t take well to being ordered around like Elena had just done, but given that she was tasked with watching Eve’s drink as well, she would follow the instruction.

“Hey!” She called to the barman, who looked up in surprise. “Can I have a soda water, please?” She asked smiling sweetly. 

Almost immediately a glass was placed in front of her. 

“Thank-you,” she said tunefully. She would just have to wait for Eve and Elena to return, she supposed. And then Eve could dance with her and show her these moves that Elena was talking about. She would like that a lot. 

 

“Eve?” Elena called, as she entered the toilets.

Eve was at the far end of the room, leaning her back against the sinks and staring at a closed toilet door. Elena didn’t say any more and simply went and stood next to Eve, mirroring her position. They were silent for several moments before Eve spoke. 

“Do you have any cigarettes?” She asked without moving to look at Elena. 

“Eve!” Elena gasped, looking aghast at the woman next to her. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Cut the crap, Elena. Do you have any?” Eve replied flatly. 

Elena sighed and started digging around in her bag before producing a packet of cigarettes and a red, plastic lighter. She held them out to Eve who reached for them before Elena pulled them back, forcing Eve to look up at her in surprise.

“Do not tell Kenny.” She said firmly, her eyes wide. Eve nodded and Elena handed the packet over. 

Eve pulled a cigarette from the packet and lit it, inhaling deeply and then throwing her head back and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. Her shoulders dropped. 

Elena pushed the vacant toilet door open and stood on the toilet seat, reaching up to shove open the small window to the outside air. Then she clattered back to Eve, her heels making a racket on the tiled floor.

“Give me one of those.” She said, taking the packet back from Eve and lighting one for herself. She reclaimed her position next to Eve against the sinks, and the two of them sank into silence and smoke. 

“Do you think Bill would have liked her?” Eve asked hollowly after a couple of minutes. Elena remained quiet for a second or two, considering the question.

“Oh God, I think he actually might have done.” She said truthfully.

“Yeah. Me too.” Eve agreed.

“Does that make it better or worse?” Elena asked, posing a question for the both of them. 

“I don’t know.” Eve sighed. “Neither.” She concluded. Elena nodded and took another drag of her cigarette. 

“You’ve never asked her about it?” Elena ventured.

“No.” Eve said, “I don’t think I could handle hearing what she would have to say.”

“That’s… a bit messed up.”

Eve let out a sudden laugh at that. 

“It’s all a bit messed up, Elena!” She said, laughing manically. Elena couldn’t help but laugh too. It really was all a bit messed up. Their laughter began to thin.

“You don’t think maybe she regrets it?” Elena asked hopefully. 

“I don’t think she regrets killing him.” Eve replied. She had thought about this a lot, despite desperately trying not to. “I think maybe she regrets that it hurt me. I mean, I think she regrets that now, not then.”

“That’s psychopath logic for you.” Elena said sardonically. 

“I can’t change any of it,” Eve whispered, ignoring Elena’s conclusion.

“What does that mean?” Elena asked, turning to Eve.

“I can’t make her un-kill him,” Eve rationalized, and perhaps she was more drunk than she had realised.

“No babe.” Elena agreed softly.

“But I can’t not… I can’t stop, you know… I just… I love her.” Eve said hesitantly.

“Yep.” Elena said, popping the ‘P’. 

Eve groaned, she took the last drag on her cigarette and then stubbed it out in the sink before flicking it into the bin.

“Right. OK.” Eve said decisively standing up straight and turning to look in the mirror. She shook her hair out, produced a lipstick from her purse and touched her lips up with it. “It’s Christmas, let’s just… try to enjoy it, shall we?”

“I mean, it’s the 19th of December.” Elena said flatly, “Plus, we’ve got that weekend away to get through yet. We don’t want peak too soon on the festive spirit.” Elena said, smiling and stubbing out her own cigarette and disposing of it.

“You know what I mean.” Eve chastised. She had put off thinking about the coming weekend. Carolyn had invited herself and Villanelle to a country house she had rented for the Christmas period. Kenny and Elena would be there too and it was bound to be… an absolute disaster.

“I get you. No more wallowing.” Elena nodded firmly. She reached into her bag again and pulled out some perfume and a packet of mints. “Open up!” she said to Eve, who obediently opened her mouth for Elena to chuck in a mint. “Waft!” she said, spraying a couple of squirts of perfume into the air, and ushering the scent over them both.

“Thank-you, Elena.” Eve said sincerely, crunching the mint between her teeth. 

“No worries, babe. Now, let’s go find your woman before she causes some accidental damage on the dance floor.” She said, linking her arm through Eve’s and directing them out of the door.

 

Villanelle had been waiting, obedient but bored, where they had left her. Eve and Elena’s drinks remained untouched on the bar next to her and a drunken man in a suit was standing on wobbly legs to her side, clearly trying to flirt.

“Oh God,” Eve said as she assessed the situation.

“Yeah,” Elena agreed, “That’s probably not good.” she replied as they neared Villanelle.

“So, what do you do then, gorgeous?” The suited man slurred, “You must be new. I would have remembered seeing you around,” he added, looking Villanelle up and down with absolutely no subtlety. 

“I’m sure I would have remembered you too.” Eve heard Villanelle reply scathingly in her standard London accent that she used for work.

“Is that right?” The man leered, missing Villanelle’s tone entirely “Well maybe now we’ve met, we should get to know each other a little better.” He reached out a hand and ran it down the back of Villanelle’s upper arm. So swiftly that the move was barely visible, Villanelle grabbed his hand. And, judging by the look on the man’s face, she had a bone crunching grip on him.

“You should never touch a woman without asking.” Villanelle hissed, her natural accent back in place. 

“Ow, fuck!” the man yelped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked. 

Villanelle twisted her wrist and the man crumpled to one side. At that moment Villanelle caught sight of Eve, who was surveying the scene with a mixture of dismay and amusement. A smile broke out over Villanelle’s face and she dropped the man’s hand, ignoring him as he stumbled backwards, cradling his injured hand against his chest.

“There you are baby!” Villanelle called. 

The man looked at Eve in pure shock as she and Elena reached them. 

“Alright, Mark?” Elena asked him casually.

“I… What?” the man, Mark, gasped.

Villanelle stepped down from the barstool and pulled Eve into her side. Eve could feel the slight residual tension in Villanelle’s frame and rubbed discrete circles into the small of her back.

“Fucking psycho.” The man spat and shuffled away from the group. Villanelle shrugged indifferently. 

“Nice one, Villanelle!” Elena laughed, “He’s always been a twat.” She raised her hand to Villanelle for a high five and Villanelle stared at it blankly until she dropped it again, “Never mind.” Elena muttered. 

Eve turned her face into Villanelle’s shoulder to muffle her laughter at Elena’s crestfallen expression and Villanelle pressed a kiss into Eve’s hair then sniffed it suspiciously. Eve shot her a guilty look, but Villanelle didn’t seem bothered.

“Will you dance with me now, Eve?” Villanelle asked pleadingly.

“Yeah, dance with her Eve!” Elena called, grabbing her drink from the bar and sucking half of it through the straw. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and Eve knew just how entertained Elena would be to see Eve trying to keep up with Villanelle’s style of dancing.

“OK, OK,” Eve relented, “Just let me have another drink first.” 

“Ugh. You have had five glasses of wine already.” Villanelle said, slumping back onto the barstool, but keeping her arm around Eve’s waist, so Eve had to stagger back slightly to stay in line with her. 

“One more won’t hurt then!” Elena let out, handing Eve her drink, “There you go, babe.”

Villanelle’s grip on Eve’s hip tightened minutely but Eve chose to ignore it this time. She had meant it when she said they should enjoy themselves, so she would down this wine and then let Villanelle drag her out onto the dance floor.

 

A couple of hours later and Eve was without a doubt drunk now, and also her feet hurt and she was tired and she wanted Villanelle to take her home so they could go to bed and maybe she needed a glass of water.

“She needs to go to bed,” Elena slurred, pointing at Eve with a wobbly finger.

“You need to go to bed!” Eve exclaimed defiantly and then she lifted a hand to her head, “No, no. I need to go to bed.” She decided to herself.

They were seated now, the crowds of colleagues from MI6 had thinned out and Villanelle had snagged a booth for the three of them when they last stumbled from the dance floor. Villanelle was still wide-awake and alert, sitting upright on the outside edge of the booth opposite Elena. Eve was faring less well. She was leaning against Villanelle’s strong frame, playing with the ring on Villanelle’s thumb that rested on her stomach where the younger woman was attempting to keep Eve upright with an arm around her waist. But still Eve was gradually slipping further down Villanelle’s body seemingly without realising.

Villanelle looked down at Eve with a frown. 

“Yes. You need to go to bed. We will leave now.” She decided and started to stand.

“But!” Eve stopped her, and Villanelle stared at her waiting for her to continue, “What about Elena?”

“Elena is not coming home with us.” Villanelle said, looking quite disgusted with the idea.

“As if I want to go home with you.” Elena muttered, hurt. 

“No,” Eve dragged out the word as if the other two women were being stupid, “Call her a cab.”

“I can call my own cab thank-you, drunkie.” Elena laughed, though to be honest, she wasn’t far behind Eve in terms of drunkenness. 

“See? She is fine.” Villanelle said, trying to hoist Eve from the booth. But Eve wouldn’t budge and made them wait for Elena to follow through on her promise to call a cab. And then Villanelle became increasingly impatient when Eve also made them wait until Elena was in said cab before heading home themselves. 

 

Finally at home and in their bedroom, Villanelle had put a glass of water on Eve’s nightstand and was now surveying the scene as Eve tried to wrestle her tights off, squirming on the bed as she did so. Villanelle sighed and approached.

“You drank too much, Eve.” Villanelle said, taking hold of the waistband of Eve’s tights.

“You don’t like me when I’m drunk.” Eve said miserably, relinquishing her task of undressing and leaving it to Villanelle. 

“I like you all the time,” Villanelle assured her quietly, “But no, I do not like it when you drink too much.” She admitted, pulling both feet of Eve’s tights towards herself, stretching them from the other woman’s body and suspending Eve’s legs in the air in the process.

“Because your dad was a drunk!” Eve said, louder than necessary as she remembered what Elena had said earlier. The tights made it down Eve’s legs at Villanelle’s insistence and Eve’s legs dropped to the bed suddenly without the tension of the fabric to support them.

“What?” Villanelle asked harshly.

“Your file. We had your file from… From prison? Or school? I can’t remember. It said your dad was a drunk.” Eve explained, the details unclear in her mind. 

“My father was an arsehole.” Villanelle murmured darkly, beginning to edge Eve’s dress up over her hips. “Sit up,” she instructed. 

“Was he a… Was he a drunk arsehole?” Eve asked, struggling into a sitting position, all sense of delicacy lost in her drunkenness. Villanelle studied her for a moment but didn’t reply.

“Arms.” Villanelle ordered. And Eve lifted her arms so Villanelle could start to pull the dress over her head. 

“Was he?” Eve asked, voice muffled, from inside her dress.

“Yes!” Villanelle snapped and Eve’s head popped out again as Villanelle heaved the dress off of her completely.

“Did he hurt you? Is that why you don’t like it when people are drunk?” Eve questioned, really on a roll now. Elena was right, if Eve had had the chance to quiz Villanelle in those early days, she would have jumped at it. Why hadn’t she pushed harder with these questions earlier?

“Yes, Eve. My arsehole father used to get drunk and beat the shit out of me. I do not see the fun in being drunk.” Villanelle said tersely, her whole body taut as though she were fighting some kind of gut instinct. 

“Oh.” Said Eve, swiftly realising the corner she had backed Villanelle into now and beginning to regret it. 

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” Villanelle asked caustically.

“No, of course not. I—” Eve stammered, suddenly feeling completely stupid, half-reclined on the bed in her underwear, a sloppy drunk demanding painful answers from the woman who was currently taking care of her.

“Do you want your pyjamas?” Villanelle asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Oh. Um… I don’t know. I thought maybe we… Do you want to, you know…” Eve ventured awkwardly. It was most unlike Villanelle to suggest Eve might want to wear her pyjamas.

“You are drunk, Eve.” Villanelle said with finality, “We are not having sex.”

“Sorry,” Eve whispered, shuffling over to her side of the bed and slipping beneath the covers. She wasn’t sorry for being drunk; she enjoyed letting loose with Elena every so often. She was sorry for asking those stupid fucking questions. That had not been a well thought out plan. Villanelle heaved out a sigh.

“It is fine.” Villanelle said, and followed suit, climbing into her own side of the bed and settling down before switching out her lamp and letting darkness fill the room. 

Eve lay beside her and felt the room spinning on its axis, maybe that last glass of wine had been a mistake. It was always the last glass. All of a sudden she wanted to cry. She really had to try not to. She had successfully proved herself to be a messy drunk. She didn’t need to stick a weepy little umbrella in the fun cocktail of emotions she had thrown Villanelle’s way already. But it was too late, a tear rolled down her cheek and she failed to stifle a sob. Eve heard the sheets rustle next to her as Villanelle tried to look at her in the dark. 

“Are you crying now?” Villanelle asked in disbelief. 

“No.” Eve choked out. 

“Eve…” Villanelle let out.

“Yes! I’m sorry!” Eve sobbed. And Villanelle chuckled softly and shifted over to Eve’s side of the bed, gathering the other woman who was now shaking with tears into her arms.

“It’s OK,” Villanelle uttered, rocking Eve gently, which did nothing to ease Eve’s nausea. “We can have sex tomorrow when you are not drunk.” Villanelle said soothingly. And Eve pulled back, her tears easing.

“What?” Eve asked with a sniff.

“There’s no need to cry about it.” Villanelle said blankly.

“I’m not crying about that! I’m crying because I asked you those horrible questions!” Eve exclaimed.

“Oh.” said Villanelle, taken aback. “Yes. That was a bit shitty. But drunk people do shitty things. You can’t un-ask them now.” She stated simply. 

Eve strained to see the other women in the darkness and then gave up and lay her head back down on Villanelle’s chest. Villanelle tightened her grip around Eve and released a sleepy sigh.

“You are going to feel awful in the morning.” Villanelle said with a hint of smugness. Eve nodded against her and said nothing. “And we have a car journey to make.” Villanelle added, and now there was no denying the smugness. 

Eve’s eyes shot open as Villanelle’s words sank in and she remembered the weekend trip to Carolyn’s country house. She felt the chest beneath her cheek shake with laughter. Eve groaned.


	2. I'm Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after the two scariest words you can hear in any relationship.

Eve screwed her eyes tightly closed before attempting to open them. The room was dark but there was light peering in around the edges of the curtains that hinted at the hour outside, it was morning. Maybe even mid-morning. Eve remained perfectly still as she assessed her situation. So far, she felt OK. Her head felt perhaps a little fuzzy, her mouth was dry and felt… also a little fuzzy. She could do with a glass of water and her toothbrush. But there  _was_ a glass of water, Eve remembered now; Villanelle had placed one beside the bed when they got home last night. Villanelle, who had helped her undress and had held her when she had drunkenly cried. Villanelle, who she had bombarded with those awful, insensitive questions. Eve reached an arm across the bed in search of warm skin. Villanelle who… was not there.

Eve sat up and glanced around the room. Then groaned. Her head pounded now that it had been lifted from the pillow, it was as though she could actually feel the sluggish alcohol-laden blood thrumming through her brain cells. And now her stomach churned, its liquid contents pitching around and then up, up her throat and—

The bathroom was just close enough it turned out, as Eve hurled herself at the toilet bowl and her stomach emptied itself violently into it. Red wine was never pretty when it reappeared and the sight and the smell of it forced yet more to come heaving out of her. Eve repeated this action several times before it felt as though every glug of wine she had ever swilled was now swirling down the drain as she flushed the toilet in exhaustion. Her face felt hot and the temptation to lie down on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor was a strong one. Eve was just about to reposition herself to do just that when Villanelle appeared in the doorway.

“Poor baby.”

She was dressed in tight, black running leggings and a black vest. Her hair was tied up out of her face and her cheeks were slightly flushed, a light sheen of sweat was visible on her skin. Eve looked at her through bleary eyes and immediately felt ten times worse.

“Don’t.” Eve croaked.

“Don’t what?” Villanelle asked innocently.

“Don’t be all smug and tell me I should know better and I deserve this for drinking so much.” Eve grumbled, staggering to her feet and running the cold tap until it felt icy to touch.

“I would not.” Villanelle replied.

“You would.” Eve argued, cupping water in her hands and bringing it to her lips to wash away the acrid vomit taste. There was a pause and then Villanelle was nudging her shoulder with an empty glass.

“Fine.” Villanelle relented. “I would. But I won’t today.”

Eve took the glass from her gratefully and filled it from the tap before draining it thirstily, feeling it sooth her throat where regurgitated stomach acid had made it raw.

“Better?” Villanelle asked with a sympathetic smile when Eve finished her water and wiped her mouth.

Eve nodded at her and sighed. Then a panicked look came over her face and she rushed back to the toilet, her stomach clenching and immediately expelling the water Eve had just consumed.

Villanelle was by her side, pulling her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear and then rubbing her lower back soothingly. Eve eventually felt her stomach muscles stop contracting and sank down onto the floor completely, leaning against the bathroom wall and pushing her head back against it, panting.

Villanelle stood from her crouched position and swiped the water glass from the sink, filling it again, and then handing it back to Eve.

“Sip it.” She said, making direct eye contact and nodding firmly. Eve nodded weakly in return.

Villanelle rummaged in the cupboard beneath the sink for a moment where Eve caught sight of a box of Villanelle’s tampons and another similar sized box containing bullets. Then Villanelle was back by her side, handing her a couple of painkillers.

“Thank-you.” Eve said quietly. “You don’t have to look after me.”

“I don’t mind.” Villanelle shrugged. “You look shit.” She added as an afterthought.

And just like that, Eve wanted to cry again. Hangovers were the worst. She was bad at them when she was younger, but the older she gets the worse her hangovers are, she was sure of it. Perhaps she was out of practice. The occasions where she drank enough to feel like this were few and far between these days. That was probably a good thing. But whatever the reason, she felt like shit. And Villanelle; gorgeous, graceful, ridiculously sexy, Villanelle, just told her she _looks_ like shit. And Eve could cry. Why on earth was this woman with her?

“I do. I know.” Eve agreed wretchedly, tears welling uninvited in her eyes.

“Oh God. Do not cry again please.” Villanelle groaned.

“I won’t.” Eve replied, her voice trembling slightly.

“Eve! Don’t!” Villanelle implored.

“I’m trying not to!” Eve cried, a sob trying to burst free whilst Eve battled to swallow it down.

“Then why are you crying?” Villanelle shouted desperately.

“Because…. Because you said I look shit.” Eve said between sniffles.

“You do look shit!” Villanelle exclaimed.

Eve crumpled into sobs. She was fully aware of how ridiculous this whole situation was. She knew she was being insane. She knew Villanelle didn’t know how to deal with these sorts of emotions without very clear instructions, and even then Eve got the feeling that Villanelle was just pretending to understand so as to avoid making things worse. But Eve had the hangover from hell and she was feeling incredibly emotional and… Oh, perhaps hormones were at play here too. What date was it anyway?

“What do I do, Eve?” Villanelle asked in a quieter voice, venturing a tentative hand onto Eve’s shoulder.

Eve took a shuddering inhale and wiped her nose on her sleeve, missing Villanelle’s look of distaste, luckily. Eve sighed and sat up a bit straighter.

“Nothing.” Eve said, trying to keep a level voice. “I’m fine.” She asserted, looking at Villanelle through watery eyes and attempting a smile that ended up looking a bit deranged.

“You’re… fine?” Villanelle repeated sceptically.

“Yes! I’m fine now.” Eve nodded more times than was necessary. “Why don’t I have a shower and you can… Are you packed? For the weekend?”

“No…” Villanelle said cautiously.

“OK!” Eve exclaimed, ignoring the bolt of pain the volume of her voice sent through her skull, “Let’s do that then. I’ll shower. You pack.” She said brightly and pulled herself onto her feet, leaving Villanelle crouched on the floor and watching her warily.

“You won’t throw up again?” Villanelle asked, standing and making her way towards the door.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Eve promised, though her stomach was complaining painfully over the exertion of its muscles and her head was throbbing.

“OK…” Villanelle said, drawing the word out and shooting a suspicious look over her shoulder, “Have a nice shower.”

Eve nodded. She smiled, or possibly winced, and then shut the door behind Villanelle the moment she was over the threshold. Eve turned and leant against the door. She accidentally caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stared at herself in dismay.

Jesus. She looked shit.

 

In the bedroom, Villanelle was entirely nonplussed. Eve was hungover, yes. Villanelle could cope with that. She could offer her water and rub her back. She could keep the vomit from getting in her glorious hair. Later, when Eve was feeling a bit better, she would offer her some toast with butter and maybe some tea with a spoon of sugar in it.

But the tears. Villanelle could not cope with those. Why was Eve crying? Again? The night before, Villanelle had assumed that Eve was crying because she was drunk and Villanelle had said they couldn’t have sex. Villanelle would never have sex with a drunk Eve, no matter how much Villanelle needed release. That would not be right. And yet that wasn’t why Eve had been crying then. Eve had said she was crying because she asked Villanelle those questions about her father. That was crazy. If Eve was going to get upset about asking them, then why ask them? But Villanelle hadn’t wanted to prolong that conversation, so she just held onto Eve until she stopped crying and went to sleep.

And now? Eve was no longer drunk, but she was still crying. Because Villanelle said she looked shit? But she does look shit. And normally Eve always wants Villanelle to be honest and to communicate, but now she doesn’t? What exactly was Villanelle meant to do with that? Eve made no sense sometimes. Whatever the reason, Villanelle does not like it when Eve cries. She doesn’t know how to make her feel good when she is crying and the sight of those tears makes Villanelle feel a strange sort of discomfort, another new and confusing feeling that Villanelle has no name for in any of her languages.

Villanelle exhaled loudly and puffed out her cheeks. She couldn’t make sense of her girlfriend today, but she could pack a suitcase for the weekend. Villanelle was very good at packing. She straightened out the covers on the bed, fluffed up the pillows and pulled her suitcase out from underneath it, unzipping it and laying it open on the bed. She ran through her mental checklist: Outfits for three days: dressy for the evenings, more casual for the days. Done. Underwear: maybe something a bit special that Eve would like her in? Done. Perfume: a choice of two. Done. Weapons… Where was that beautiful knife with the silver and pearl handle? Villanelle lifted her side of the mattress and retrieved her knife from underneath. She looked at it admiringly; it really was a lovely one. Then she slipped it into her suitcase with a couple of pairs of socks. Would she need more than that? It was always best to be over-prepared, that had been part of her training. Villanelle strode across the room to the chair in the corner where she usually flung her clothes. She grabbed the seat cushion and unzipped it. Inside was one of her handguns, kept neatly out of sight. That would do. She could retrieve bullets from the bathroom when Eve was finished. Normally she would happily go in while Eve was showering, but today maybe not.

“Do you really need to take that?”

Villanelle looked up to see Eve exiting the bathroom, dressed in her robe and towel drying her hair.

“Always Be Prepared.” Villanelle said sternly with an accent that wasn’t quite her own, waving the gun warningly at Eve. Eve suspected the accent was Konstantin’s and she hoped that the gun wasn’t loaded.

“And yet I somehow doubt you were ever a girl scout.” Eve muttered as she switched to drying the other side of her hair.

Villanelle didn’t know what that meant, so she ignored it.

“Are you… feeling better?” She asked gingerly.

“Yes,” Eve replied softly, “Sorry about that, darling.”

“It’s OK.” Villanelle shrugged. “I understand.” She didn’t. And they both knew it. Eve smiled at her and sat on the edge of the bed next Villanelle’s suitcase.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Villanelle asked suddenly.

“I… Uh… Yes. Of course.” Eve stammered, surprised by the question.

“That is good. When you look sad it makes me want to kiss you, I think.” Villanelle explained.

“It does?” Eve replied. Villanelle had said she looked shit. Now she said when Eve looks sad she wants to kiss her. Those two observations didn't seem to go together. 

“I think so, yes. I don’t like it when you cry.” Villanelle said slowly, as if trying to figure out what she meant as she was saying it.

“That’s normal.” Eve stated, “I wouldn’t like it if you cried either.”

Villanelle laughed loudly, and Eve’s headache spiked.

“I don’t cry!” Villanelle said through her laughter as if Eve’s suggestion was entirely mad.

“That’s… less normal.” Eve replied.

“Oh.” Villanelle said, her laughter abating. “Because I am a psychopath?”

“No!” Eve said immediately. “I mean, I’m sure lots of people don’t cry very often. People who aren’t psychopaths.”

Villanelle nodded slowly, digesting that bit of information. And Eve watched her silently. This really was not an appropriate conversation for when it felt like someone was performing an amateur production of The Nutcracker in her head, but Villanelle seemed genuinely perturbed by this insight into the rest of humanity.

“But, you know,” Eve went on, “you _can_ cry, if you ever… wanted to.”

Villanelle just looked at her for a moment, clearly baffled by the idea of wanting to cry. Very occasionally her eyes got wet and stung, like when she had to shoot Konstantin. But she couldn’t imagine wanting to cry like Eve had earlier. What would be the point in that?

“Thank-you, Eve.” Villanelle said graciously at last, then after a moment’s pause, “Can I kiss you now?”

In every other relationship Eve had ever been in there had been none of this asking before kissing her. And it wasn’t that Villanelle did it every time. Well, she had to begin with. But now it seemed to be only when she was struggling with something, as though she needed a solid response just to be sure she wasn’t misreading anything. Villanelle thrived on physical connections, especially when the emotional ones were unsettling her.

“Uh… Yeah, sure.” Eve replied.

Villanelle swooped in immediately and captured Eve’s lips. Eve heard a clunk to her side and assumed Villanelle had thrown her gun into the open suitcase. It took Eve a moment or two to respond to Villanelle’s lips on her own, but when she felt Villanelle’s tongue tracing her top lip Eve’s mind caught up again and she responded earnestly.

“I wanted to kiss you all last night at the party.” Villanelle said against Eve’s lips, pulling back just far enough and just long enough to utter the words before claiming Eve’s mouth once more.

“Mmmhmmm?” Eve questioned, genuinely surprised by Villanelle’s statement.

“Yes,” Villanelle pulled back again, her lips separating from Eve’s with a soft click, “But Elena was always there. And then you were too drunk.” She explained, leaning in and nipping Eve’s bottom lip as though she was chastising her for her drunkenness.

“Yes. Well—” Eve started. She didn’t need reminding about how much she had drunk, her headache was taking care of that.

“We haven’t had sex in nearly two days.” Villanelle pointed out, once again speaking almost into Eve’s mouth. This time Eve pulled back. She fought the urge to laugh at the now solemn expression on Villanelle’s face.

“I know.” Eve nodded, mimicking Villanelle’s solemnity. Eve and Niko would frequently go two weeks without sex and not even notice, but that might not be the right thing to tell Villanelle. Her head would probably explode.

“Maybe if you’re feeling better tonight?” Villanelle said hopefully, her eyes lighting up as she spoke.

This time Eve couldn’t fight her laughter, but swiftly tried to rein it in when Villanelle’s optimistic expression fell into a frown.

“I’m sure I’ll be feeling fine by tonight,” Eve reassured, cupping the side of Villanelle’s face in her palm, “Hangovers don’t last forever. But we won’t be going anywhere if we don’t get a move on.”

As if buoyed by the promise of sex, Villanelle leapt up from where she had been hovering between Eve’s legs at the side of the bed and continued her packing. Eve now hoped her earlier meltdown had been purely hangover related rather than a hormonal warning sign, a red flag, as it were.

 

A few hours later and Eve was feeling revived and mostly human again. She had packed her suitcase and Villanelle had made her tea and toast, which had settled her stomach nicely. Now, they were both pulling on coats and hats in the hallway, suitcases at their sides, ready to brave the December chill and begin their journey to Carolyn’s country house.

“I will drive, yes?” Villanelle asked eagerly, wrapping a cashmere scarf around her neck and then flicking her hair out of it to rest over the top.

Eve rolled her eyes but was thank-fully facing away from Villanelle.

“How thoughtful of you.” Eve said dryly.

A week earlier Villanelle had decided to buy herself a little gift with the bonus she had received on her final job for The Twelve. Eve had come home from work to find a brand new matte black Mercedes 4X4 with blacked out windows parked next to her small, silver VW, and a giddy Villanelle practically bouncing off the walls of the house.

Villanelle informed Eve that she had never owned a car before. By the time she could afford one, she lived in cities where there was no need for one. Eve had pointed out that she didn’t need one now either, what with living in London and the fact that Eve already owned a car.

“ _You do have a driver’s license, right?” Eve asked suspiciously._

_“Well, I did.” Villanelle replied cryptically. “But, you know, I’m dead now, so…”_

_“No!” Eve said at one, “No, no, no. You are not driving that thing around without a license. It’s not exactly subtle, is it?” she said, gesturing at the custom vehicle the size of a small tank._

_“Eve! Calm down! I have a license now. Well, Sophie Wilson has a licence anyway. See?” At that point, Villanelle produced a card from out of nowhere and held it up for Eve to inspect._

_Eve snatched the license card from Villanelle’s hands and looked between it and Villanelle’s told-you-so expression several times before handing it back with a sigh._

_“Carolyn got the license for me. For work. It’s good, no?” Villanelle said proudly._

_“Yeah, Sophie. It’s great.” Eve replied sardonically and stomped into the house, leaving Villanelle at the door, beaming at her new purchase._

 

Now, a week later, and Eve was still not a fan of Villanelle’s car, or the fact that she drove like a getaway driver. Eve had a vague inkling about who might have taught Villanelle to drive and under what circumstances. But regardless of her feelings about The Monstrosity, as she called it, today Eve was actually grateful not to have to drive as she clambered up into the plush, leather passenger seat.

Villanelle turned the engine on with the press of a button and music that sounded suspiciously like La Marseillaise blared out of the speakers.

“Off!” Villanelle shouted over the music, and it was instantly silenced.

“Want your heated seat on?” Villanelle asked.

“Yes please.” Eve grumbled reluctantly. Villanelle nodded and flicked a switch on the dashboard.

“It has four wheel drive, you know?” Villanelle said with faux nonchalance, “So if it snows, we won’t get stuck in the countryside.”

“Maybe there’s an upside to the neighbours thinking we’re drug lords after all then.” Eve muttered.

“Why would we be drug lords?” Villanelle asked.

“Your car. It looks like—” Eve began to explain.

“What is the postcode? I will use the built-in satnav.” Villanelle interrupted, now unwinding the scarf from about her neck and putting it in Eve’s lap.

Eve scrolled through her phone for an email from Carolyn that detailed the address of the house they were staying in. She read out the postcode for Villanelle who typed it onto the touchscreen of the car.

“Two hours thirteen minutes.” Villanelle announced. “And I have set it to ‘scenic route’.”

Eve suddenly had visions of Villanelle careening around the corners of country lanes and crashing through waterlogged fords, laughing maniacally.

“I’m going to have a nap.” Eve decided, folding Villanelle’s ridiculously soft scarf into a pillow and resting it between her head and the window.

“OK baby. I will drive carefully.” Villanelle promised. The tyres of the car span noisily on the road surface as Villanelle tore out of her parking spot and down the road.


	3. That Was Fun

Two hours and thirteen minutes could not have passed too soon as far as Eve was concerned, even if Villanelle had managed to shave a whole seventeen minutes from the satnav’s original journey time. Villanelle’s idea of driving safely had made Eve’s desired nap entirely impossible. When Villanelle noticed that Eve was not sleeping after all, she had reached across the centre console and taken Eve’s hand in her own, interlocking their fingers. With only one hand to guide the steering wheel around corners, Villanelle’s driving became yet more erratic and Eve’s knuckles quickly whitened in their grip on Villanelle’s hand.  
  
“Ouch baby!” Villanelle chuckled, rubbing her thumb across the back of Eve’s hand either in an attempt to soothe her or to try to ease Eve’s grasp.

“You don’t want to damage my fingers now, do you?” Villanelle turned and raised her eyebrows suggestively at Eve. Eve didn’t think for a second that she could hold Villanelle’s hand tight enough to even remotely hurt her. She rolled her eyes and then caught sight of the road ahead of them.  
  
“Eyes on the road!” Eve shrieked, slamming her foot instinctively onto an imaginary break pedal in front of her, as they approached a bend in the road at quite a speed.  
  
“Whoops.” Villanelle sing-songed, righting the car’s projection just in time to steer it around the corner almost entirely on the wrong side of the road.  
  
“Jesus.” Eve muttered under her breath.  
  
Eve extricated her hand from Villanelle’s and gripped onto the side of her seat instead, ignoring Villanelle’s pout. Silence reigned in the car for a few minutes. Villanelle wasn’t a fan of music, and today Eve didn’t mind. Her head was mostly recovered now, but music certainly wouldn’t aid the final steps of hangover revival. Eve took a deep breath and tried to force her body out of its braced state.  
  
“I am a very good driver, you know? You don’t have to be so tense.” Villanelle said, breaking the silence.  
  
Evidently she had been keeping half an eye on Eve, or perhaps more than half an eye. Judging by how close to the hedges the car kept veering, Villanelle’s focus was definitely not solely on her task of delivering them safely to Carolyn’s country house.  
  
“You nearly hit a pedestrian.” Eve responded flatly.  
  
“He should not have been in the road.” Villanelle insisted.  
  
“It was a pedestrian crossing! Why do you think they’re called that?” Eve exclaimed.  
  
Villanelle just issued a one-shouldered shrug.  
  
“We do not have those in Russia.” She said simply. And Eve was 100% sure that they do have those in Russia; she had seen them there with her own eyes. She had even used a couple.  
  
Eve shifted in her seat, begrudgingly enjoying the warmth radiating from its in-built heater, and opted not to argue her point further. Eve would save what was left of her sanity and keep quiet, allowing her head the silence it craved for the remainder of their journey time.  
  
  
  
“We are here!” Villanelle let out some time later, pulling the car to such an abrupt halt that the suitcases jolted noisily into the back of the boot and Eve was flung forward into her seat belt painfully.  
  
“Thank God.” Eve grumbled, rubbing her chest where the seat belt had been. Villanelle seemed oblivious to Eve’s discomfort and flipped down the sun visor in front of her to reapply her lipstick in the mirror. Eve couldn’t help but notice the razor blade taped to the visor.  
  
Eve opened her door and lowered herself as gracefully as possible to the ground that seemed a fair distance below her. She straightened out her coat, put her hat back on and looked at the house in front of her. It was an old stone manor house, not vast in size but clearly once a stately home for some minor dignitary. It had lead-lined windows, a solid oak wooden front door and ivy growing up the exterior. Eve heard the car door shut and then the crunching of gravel as Villanelle approached and stood beside her immediately wrapping an arm around Eve’s shoulders and pressing a kiss into the side of her head.  
  
“It looks like houses in _Poirot_.” Villanelle noted, her pronunciation of the name spot on.  
  
Eve turned to look at her in disbelief. Is that what Villanelle used to do when Eve was at work? Set up camp on the sofa and watch old Agatha Christie adaptations on daytime TV like a pensioner? Nothing should surprise her these days and yet some things still did.  
  
Villanelle let go of Eve and headed purposefully to the front door, she banged the iron doorknocker loudly three times as Eve jogged across the gravel driveway to join her.   
  
Eve suddenly felt anxious as they stood together on the doorstep. She just couldn’t imagine how this weekend was going to play out. She sought out Villanelle’s hand and slipped her own into it. Villanelle glanced at her as though she could feel Eve’s nerves through the palm of her hand. Or perhaps it was just that it was normally Villanelle who initiated this kind of contact that alerted the her to Eve’s uncertainty.  
  
“Baby?” Villanelle started just as the door in front of them swung open to reveal Carolyn. She looked between the two of them distractedly and then glanced for a split second at their clasped hands before looking back at Eve.  
  
“Eve. Hello.” She nodded, without smiling. And then she turned her gaze to Villanelle. “And… Yes, I never know what to call you...” She said studying Villanelle somewhat accusingly but speaking as though she was talking to herself.  
  
Eve opened her mouth to respond, when the door opened further and Elena’s face appeared.  
  
“Alright Villanelle?” She said, nodding at Villanelle. Villanelle mirrored her nod but said nothing.  
  
“Eve, babe, how’s your head? Mine’s—” Elena broke off midway through her sentence.  
  
“What are you two, the Ealing Mafia? What the fuck is that?” She asked, staring in disbelief at Villanelle’s car across the driveway.  
  
“That is mine.” Villanelle said proudly.  
  
“Yeah. No shit.” Elena replied sarcastically, stepping out of the house to get a better look.  
  
“Tea, Eve?” Carolyn asked, ignoring the other two occupants on the threshold.  
  
“God yes.” Eve let out, and followed as Carolyn retreated into the double-height hall of the house, leaving Villanelle and Elena in the driveway. Villanelle rarely had much to say to Elena, in fact she was mostly just confused by her, but any chance to show off her new baby was worth taking apparently.  
  
Carolyn strode past a ten foot Christmas tree, lavishly decorated, in the entrance hall and through a doorway to the other side. As she passed the tree, the small rounded figure of Martin the Pug appeared backwards from beneath it with a half-chewed ornament hanging from his flat face. He dropped his soggy mangled angel to the floor and hurried, snorting audibly, behind Carolyn. Eve followed suit, but without the snorting, and found herself in a large kitchen with a flagstone floor and a scrubbed wooden table.  
  
“Have a seat.” Carolyn said, gesturing vaguely at the table, but speaking as though she had just invited Eve into her office, rather than the kitchen of a stately home. Eve sat down.  
  
“It’s a great house.” Eve pointed out, looking around herself at the wood panelled walls and the evidence of various antique fittings and fixtures.  
  
“Oh, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? A tradition Kenny’s father started years ago, coming here for Christmas, can’t bloody change it now even though the man’s dead.” She sighed.  
  
“Oh. No, I suppose not.” Eve replied, not sure how to respond to that statement. “Well, thank-you for inviting us anyway.” She added politely.  
  
“Mmmm? Oh, that was Kenny’s idea. Well, he wanted to invite _you_. To be honest, I think he’s terrified of… your partner.”  
  
Eve imagined that was probably true. Since Villanelle’s miraculous resurrection, hers and Kenny’s paths had not yet crossed. To Kenny, Villanelle was still an enigma, a deadly assassin that needed to be treated with utmost caution. Eve couldn’t blame him for being terrified. And Villanelle… Well, she knew Kenny existed. She had heard Eve talk about him and she knew how he fitted into the group, but Villanelle showed barely a shred of interest in anyone apart from Eve. Unless, that is, she was going to kill them and Kenny was safe from that fate, Eve was sure of it. She couldn’t see the two of them having much to bond over though.  
  
“She won’t hurt anyone.” Eve said hurriedly, forcing herself to forget the weapons concealed in Villanelle’s designer suitcase. And the razor blade in the car. And countless others she probably didn’t know about.  
  
“Well, I hope that’s not the case.” Carolyn replied, placing a mug of tea on the table in front of Eve.  
  
Eve looked up at her in confusion and was about to ask what that meant exactly when there was a yap from Martin under the table and Elena strode into the kitchen.  
  
“That car is bat shit, babe. I can’t believe you let her buy that.” Elena laughed, shaking her head ruefully and parking herself in the chair beside Eve.  
  
“Let her? You do remember who you’re talking about, right?” Eve asked incredulously.  
  
“Oh. Well, yeah. She says she’s a good driver though. So at least you get driven around now. That must be useful.” Elena finished with a sympathetic smile.  
  
“Yeah, if I wanted to rob a bank.” Eve muttered into her mug before taking a sip of tea.  
  
There were decisive footsteps coming down the hall and Martin let out a low, and entirely un-menacing, growl from somewhere near Eve’s feet.  
  
Villanelle appeared in the doorway and a blur of beige shot out from under the table towards her, only stopped in its tracks by a large boot.  
  
“What the hell is this?” Villanelle asked, keeping her foot effortlessly in place as Martin’s claws scrabbled uselessly against the stone floor in an attempt to get closer to this intriguing new visitor.  
  
“It’s just Martin.” Said Carolyn disinterestedly from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug cradled in her hands.  
  
Villanelle lifted her foot and without its solid presence to push against, Martin fell face first to the floor. Villanelle scoffed and crouched down to inspect the small dog, with a faintly disgusted expression.  
  
“It is very ugly.” She decided with a sneer.  
  
“Fair.” Elena nodded her agreement from the table.  
  
Martin saw his chance and aimed a firm lick at Villanelle’s chin.  
  
“Ugh!” Villanelle recoiled, wiped her chin frantically and stood up at once, shooting a repulsed glare at Martin, who fidgeted around in excitement.  
  
“Disgusting animal.” She murmured, heading towards the table and noting with disappointment that the spot next to Eve was already occupied.  
  
Martin hefted his tiny body after her and waited until she was seated opposite Eve to park his rotund rear end against her foot. He gazed up at her with his bulging eyes.  
  
“What is it doing?” Villanelle asked the room at large, staring down with mild repulsion at Martin.  
  
“I think you’ve pulled, mate.” Elena said with a smirk.  
  
Villanelle looked at Elena blankly and then turned questioning eyes to Eve, not quite understanding what Elena meant by that.    
  
“He likes you.” Eve explained.  
  
“I do not like it.” Villanelle countered, now glowering back silently at Martin who simply licked his lips loudly, his stub of a tail rubbing at the floor as he attempted to wag it.  
  
“So,” Carolyn said loudly, cutting into the conversation, and clearly bored of it, “We have another guest joining us this weekend

 “Oh yeah? One of your toy-boys?” Elena asked waggling her eyebrows at Carolyn and smiling.  
  
Eve choked on a mouthful of tea. She suddenly had an image of Konstantin stepping out of a broom cupboard. Dear God, she hoped for Kenny’s sake – for everyone’s sake – it wasn’t Konstantin. Though Villanelle might appreciate his company.  
  
“If only,” Carolyn said wistfully. “No, sadly, David is a… colleague of sorts. He is based usually in Washington DC, but he is working here over Christmas so I suggested he join our… group.”  
  
“There you go, Eve. A fellow American for you.” Elena nudged Eve with an elbow and Villanelle frowned.  
  
“Yes, I suppose that’s right.” Carolyn noted as though she had forgotten that Eve was American.  
  
“You mean he works for us, but in DC?” Eve asked Carolyn, ignoring both Elena’s Carolyn’s comments.

“There are… connections, yes.” Carolyn responded carefully.  
  
“So he’s part of MI6? Or British Intelligence?” Eve pushed.  
  
“David will be arriving shortly.” Carolyn said dismissively, brushing Eve’s queries aside, “I suggest before then, you get settled and put your things in your room.”  
  
“But—” Eve started.  
  
“Elena, will you show Eve where her room is, please?” Carolyn asked, talking over Eve.  
  
“No problem, Carolyn.” Elena agreed, standing from her seat and urging Eve to do the same. Villanelle got up to follow as well, dislodging Martin gracelessly from where he rested against her boot.  
  
“Villanelle.” Carolyn said abruptly, stopping all three women in their tracks. “I wouldn’t mind a moment of your time later.”  
  
Villanelle looked mildly disinterested but shrugged in acceptance.  
  
“Good.” Carolyn nodded. “Oh!” She added, “I think you’d better be Sophie Wilson for the weekend, Hmmm? Sounds more believable than all this ‘Villanelle’ nonsense.” She waved a hand about dismissively at the word ‘nonsense’.  
  
Eve glimpsed Villanelle’s hand clenching into a fist at her side, so she took a hold of it hastily and smoothed out her fingers. She didn’t know the origin of Villanelle’s chosen name, but she suspected it was important to the woman.  
  
“Come on, darling,” Eve said calmly, “Let’s see our room.”  
  
Elena led them back the way they had come and only as they were collecting the suitcases from the entrance hall where Villanelle had left them did anyone speak.

“Carolyn’s got balls, I’ll give her that,” Elena said lowly. “For the record, I think Villanelle is a great name.” She added in a louder voice to be sure that Villanelle heard her.  
  
Eve rolled her eyes and shoulder-checked Elena as they headed to the stairs.  
  
“Suck up.” Eve mouthed at Elena from behind Villanelle’s back.  
  
“It _is_ a great name.” Villanelle grumbled, grabbing Eve’s suitcase from her like it weighed nothing at all before overtaking Elena to march up the stairs with a suitcase in each hand as if she knew exactly where she was going already.  
  
Elena hung back with Eve and gestured to the Villanelle taking the stairs two at a time, laden with suitcases. Martin was heaving himself up desperately after her, and then pausing to get his breath back on each step.  
  
“She’s got some stamina, I bet.” Elena said admiringly, just low enough to not be overheard.  
  
“Stop.” Eve warned, an empty threat, and started to make her way up the stairs.  
  
“No, seriously babe,” Elena started, hurrying to catch up with Eve, “She must be dynamite. Am I right?”  
  
“Elena!” Eve hissed, as Villanelle reached the top of the stairs and threw a confused look over her shoulder.  
  
“What? I’m pleased for you.” Elena said teasingly.  
  
Eve was pretty pleased for herself too, but now was not the time to discuss that aspect of her relationship. It would be good to have a proper girl talk with Elena though at some point, Eve mused.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
Eve was broken from her thoughts by the sound of a different voice at the top of the stairs. Kenny had exited a room and come face-to-face with Villanelle. He was standing stock still, his eyes wide, as if he had just come stumbled unexpectedly into a full sized grizzly bear.  
  
“Oh God.” He gulped  
  
“Who are you?” Villanelle demanded, lengthening her figure menacingly. Kenny edged backwards into the room he had just walked out of.  
  
“Kenny! There you are, babe.” Elena called, running up the last few steps and dragging Kenny back out of the room by his sleeve.  
  
“This is Kenny.” Elena announced to Villanelle, still holding tightly to Kenny to keep him in place.  
  
“Yes. Hello. Um. Oksana?” Kenny asked nervously, raising his voice as though it was a question. Villanelle growled threateningly. And Kenny looked frantically at Elena.  
  
“Villanelle.” Elena corrected under her breath.  
  
“Villanelle!” Kenny practically shouted. “Villanelle. Hello, Villanelle.” He stammered. Eve could practically see the beads of sweat forming at his hairline.  
  
“Hello Kenny.” Villanelle said, fixing Kenny with a cold stare, and Eve could swear she was emphasising the Russian in her accent. It was always there, but not usually _that_ distinctively.  
  
“Great! That’s the introductions done then!” Elena said loudly, smiling overly brightly. “Your room is at the end of the hall. OK guys, see you later!” She threw hastily over her shoulder. She pushed Kenny backwards into their room as he continued to stare at Villanelle in mild horror and stumbled slightly as his foot met the edge of a rug on the floor.  
  
Eve sent Elena an apologetic smile and took her suitcase back from Villanelle, giving her a nudge in the direction of where Elena said their room was.  
  
“You knew exactly who that was.” Eve said quietly once Kenny and Elena had shut the door to their room.  
  
“Yep.” said Villanelle, popping the P, “But that was fun.”  
  
At the top of the stairs, Martin’s squashed face finally appeared, and he hauled himself onto the landing, huffing and wheezing, to see Eve and Villanelle disappear through a doorway at the end of the hall. He collapsed onto the floorboards to regain his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, so earlier today I was doing a little re-watch of episode five of Killing Eve and I noticed that I have messed up in this story and the previous one in the series. That's right, I noticed that Martin is, in fact, not a pug. He appears for a split second in the episode and he is, without doubt, not a pug. BUT, I have already written most of this story, and it seems silly to go back and change all my descriptions of him now. So, please accept my apologies. Call it creative licence, call it a minor fuck up, either way, for the sake of my stories, Martin is a pug.


	4. Be Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite chapter so far, enjoy!

The bedroom that had been allocated for Eve and Villanelle’s use over the weekend was a large one. It, like the rest of the house, had dark wood panelled walls and original wooden floorboards, almost entirely covered by a faded rug that looked about as old as the house itself. The bed was a four-poster, large, with the curtains pinned back and adorned with, thank-fully, modern bedding; a fluffy feather filled duvet and more pillows than could possibly be necessary. There was something about this house that reminded Eve of games of _Clue_ from her childhood. A vast oak wardrobe stood against one wall, and inside it hangers clanged against one another as Eve pulled open the doors to begin arranging her clothes.  
  
Villanelle sat on the edge of the bed and bounced a couple of times, as though carrying out an inspection of the bed’s comfort. Eve suspected she was actually checking for squeaky springs or creaking joints. Seemingly satisfied with whatever examination she had carried out, Villanelle flung several pillows and cushions to the floor and then reclined against the remaining ones, watching silently as Eve unpacked her suitcase.  
  
“You do not have to do that now.” Villanelle said at last as Eve pulled out more of her clothes to re-fold and place into drawers and the wardrobe.   
  
“I don’t want everything to be creased.” Eve explained, brushing down a dress that Villanelle had, of course, bought her and hanging it carefully.  
  
“Eve.” Villanelle called, dragging out her name.  
  
“Mmmm?” Eve replied, picking up the pillows that Villanelle had banished to the floor and placing them on a threadbare chaise longue instead.  
  
“Eve, come here please?” Villanelle requested not _quite_ whining.   
  
Eve glanced up at Villanelle, she was surveying Eve with a hint of hunger in her eyes, and held out a hand for Eve to take. Eve considered the clothes that still needed unpacking, and the wash-bag she planned to deposit in the en suite bathroom, and then put her hand in Villanelle’s and allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed and onto Villanelle.  
  
“That’s better.” Villanelle sighed, relishing the weight of Eve on top of her and folding an arm over Eve’s lower back as though to keep her from leaping up to organise her socks. Villanelle stroked a single finger down the side of Eve’s face, pushing a strand of hair away as she did so.  
  
“How long until that man arrives do you think?” Villanelle whispered, her eyes taking in every inch of Eve’s face.  
  
“No idea, darling.” Eve replied, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of Villanelle’s fingers that were now stroking through her hair.  
  
“Long enough to fuck?” Villanelle asked and Eve opened her eyes.  
  
“Oh Oksana, you have such a way with words.” Eve replied in mock reverence.   
  
“Sorry.” Villanelle replied, lowering her voice mockingly and tilting her from head side to side.  
  
“Long enough to make love?” Villanelle asked, this time in her prim and proper English accent and batting her eyelashes innocently.   
  
“Oh God,” Eve laughed throatily. “Please never say that again.”  
  
“What? Don’t you want to _make love_ , Eve?” Villanelle asked still in the same accent, her eyes sparkling with teasing laughter.

“Stop!” Eve laughed.  
  
“But don’t you love me, sweetheart?” Villanelle replied, accent firmly in place and clearly loving this. She leant in and kissed Eve softly. Eve chased her lips as she pulled back.  
  
“Hmmm?” Villanelle asked still keeping up her game, “Don’t you love me?”   
  
“Oksana!” Eve chastised, leaning in for another kiss, but meeting thin air as Villanelle pulled away further.  
  
“Tell me you love me,” Villanelle whispered, returning to her own accent. But now Eve was playing her at her own game. Or trying to, at least.  
  
“I love you very much,” Eve said, trying to mimic Villanelle’s posh English accent and failing dismally as it came out almost cockney. Villanelle groaned.  
  
“Eve, that was horrible.” She admonished and Eve couldn’t help but agree, accents really weren’t a talent of hers.  
  
“Well, we can’t all be chameleons.” Eve told her and then finally ducked down and captured Villanelle’s lips in her own.   
  
Villanelle allowed Eve to lead the kiss, content to lie back into the soft duvet with Eve lying half on top of her. She sank into it whole-heartedly, moaning softly as Eve swiped her tongue across Villanelle’s lower lip in a request for entrance.   
  
A few long moments later and Villanelle’s need for control began to re-emerge as she broke her lips from Eve’s and pushed Eve onto her back, hovering above her and pushing her face into Eve’s neck, inhaling deeply and placing open mouthed kisses and small nips to her neck and jaw.   
  
“Eve,” Villanelle whispered hoarsely against the other woman’s skin.  
  
“Yeah?” Eve asked, running her hand down Villanelle’s back before pushing it into the back pocket of her jeans and pulling Villanelle’s hips against her own. Villanelle groaned as Eve’s hand remained in place, squeezing firmly.  
  
“Eve, tell me you love me.” Villanelle asked, her hand slipping up Eve’s top and caressing her stomach, while her face remained in the crook of Eve’s neck.   
  
It was a request that Eve often got in moments like this. When Villanelle had first made it, Eve had been somewhat surprised. But now, the longer she knew Villanelle, the more glimpses she caught of the real Oksana, the one that relished hearing those words, that needed to hear them, couldn’t be told them enough. It sent a little pang of pain through Eve to wonder at how unloved this woman must have felt for much of her life.   
  
“Eve?” Villanelle asked again quietly, “Please?” Her fingers were running back and forth along the bottom edge of Eve’s bra now, but her kisses had paused and she was just waiting, breathing deeply near Eve’s ear.  
  
“Look at me then, darling.” Eve said, squirming as far back as she could so that she might be able to see Villanelle. If Villanelle needed to hear this, then Eve needed her to know it was true. She wanted to look her in the eye as she said it. Usually Villanelle purposefully asked for it when she was out of Eve’s eye-line, as though her request was somehow shameful.   
  
Villanelle extricated herself from Eve’s hair reluctantly and leant up, resting on one elbow and looked at Eve uncertainly.   
  
Eve ran a hand through Villanelle’s honey-blonde hair. It always felt like strands of silk. She looked into those gold eyes, more green at the moment and mostly taken over by blown pupils.  
  
“I love you, Oksana Astankova.” Eve whispered and watched a flicker pass through Villanelle’s face, a twitch in her lips barely noticeable before Eve pushed herself up to place a soft kiss on them.  
  
Villanelle returned the kiss greedily, sighing relief into Eve’s mouth, as she pressed her back down into the pillow.  
  
“I love you.” Eve affirmed, this time against Villanelle’s lips. Villanelle whimpered instinctively and Eve squeezed her ass again, as though reminding Villanelle that her hand was there. Villanelle groaned and pushed hips against Eve’s, grinding them slightly and making Eve gasp.   
  
Eve pulled her hand from Villanelle’s pocket and brought it around to try and slip it between them. The angle hurt her wrist faintly, but she needed to touch Villanelle. Eve pushed her hand onto Villanelle’s stomach, feeling instantly for the scar. She couldn’t help it. She pressed her thumb to it momentarily, apologetically.  
  
“Don’t.” Villanelle begged.  
  
“Sorry,” Eve mumbled. Villanelle didn’t like it when Eve paid any attention to the mark she had made. It was another conversation they didn’t have.   
  
Eve’s hand reversed its journey, heading down now to the waistband of Villanelle’s jeans and slipping her fingertips below both the denim and the underwear beneath.  
  
“Yes,” Villanelle hissed, pushing her hips forward, “Yes. I need it.”   
  
“I know, darling.” Eve assured her, retreating from her lips for a moment, “Sit up a minute, take these off.” Eve asked, tugging at Villanelle’s jeans.  
  
Villanelle sat up instantly, resting her weight on Eve’s hips and making her grunt in pleasure rather than pain. Villanelle’s fingers worked like lightening on the button and zip of her jeans and then she lifted herself up on her knees to shove them roughly over her hips.  
  
Then, from downstairs, there came a resounding bang, bang, bang, from the front door followed by a flurry of yaps that seemed to come from right outside the door to Eve and Villanelle’s room.   
  
Eve sat up, her cheeks flushed and her hair more unruly than usual.   
  
“That must be David.” She surmised. Villanelle stared at her desperately.  
  
“We can finish though, yes?” Villanelle asked, “I’ll be quick.” She promised, her eyes conveying her urgency.   
  
“Darling, we can’t stay up here like horny teenagers, we need to go and say hello.” Eve explained regretfully.  
  
“No!” Villanelle exclaimed. “But, Eve, I need it! It’s been days!”   
  
“Two days. It’s been two days.” Eve pointed out, trying to insert an ounce of reality to the situation.   
  
“Two days! Exactly.” Villanelle said indignantly. If she were standing right now she’d probably have stamped her foot petulantly.   
  
Eve rolled her eyes and sat up, re-zipping Villanelle’s jeans and doing up the button.  
  
“When you first moved in we didn’t have sex for three whole weeks,” Eve noted, “You survived that.”  
  
“I masturbated _a lot_.” Villanelle said, her eyes wide and nodding to emphasise her point.  
  
“Well, you can do that now if you like. I am going to be polite and say hello to David.” Eve replied, trying to free herself from beneath Villanelle, who was remaining steadfast on top of her, effectively keeping her pinned to the bed. Eve knew without a shadow of a doubt that Villanelle had no intention of actually trapping her there.  
  
From downstairs there came a booming voice.  
  
“Whose spectacular vehicle is that in the yard?” called a deep voice in a broad American accent.   
  
Villanelle practically pricked up her ears.   
  
“No, no,” She said in faux-defeat. “I will be polite also.”  
  
“There’s a surprise.” Muttered Eve sarcastically. And the two of them made their way downstairs.  
  
  
  
In the entrance hall Eve and Villanelle joined the rest of the group welcoming David to their midst. Martin, who Villanelle had almost tripped over when she opened the door to their bedroom came half walking, half falling down the stairs behind them.  
  
“What a tree!” David was exclaiming, considering the oversized Christmas tree in the hall. He was a tall man and well built with light brown hair, piercing blue eyes and purposeful stubble on his chin. He was perhaps in his late thirties and, Eve supposed, quite attractive.  
  
“Ah!” Carolyn said as Eve and Villanelle reached the bottom of the stairs. “And this is Eve, a colleague,” Carolyn introduced, “And her partner, _Sophie_.” She emphasized the name as though reminding everyone present to stick to that story.   
  
“Eve,” David boomed, sticking out his hand, “A pleasure to meet you.”  
  
Eve met his firm handshake as best she could.   
  
“Nice to meet you, David.” Eve replied politely.   
  
“A fellow countryman!” David exclaimed on noticing Eve’s accent. “Where are you from, Eve?”  
  
“Oh, uh, Connecticut, but I’ve been here for—” Eve started.  
  
“Great state.” David cut across her, “And Sophie,” He moved his attention on to Villanelle, “Wow. It certainly is a pleasure to meet you.” He said, letting his gaze roam appreciatively up and down Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle stared blankly back at him with one eyebrow raised. Eve shifted awkwardly next to her.  
  
“Partners, you say?” David went on, apparently not noticing Villanelle’s lack of response. “Like, business partners?”  
  
“Eve is my girlfriend.” Villanelle clarified coldly, but luckily remembering to adopt Sophie Wilson’s bog standard London accent.   
  
Eve glanced at her. She hadn’t been referred to as somebody’s girlfriend since she was in her early twenties. It was a jarring word to hear in relation to herself after fifteen years of being somebody’s wife.   
  
“Yeah. They’re a couple.” Elena said pointedly, evidently having noticed David’s roving eye as well.   
  
“Well hey,” David started with a smile, holding up both hands as though in surrender, “Nothing wrong with two beautiful women together now is there?” He asked heartily, turning to Kenny, as the only man present, to back him up.  
  
Kenny glanced fearfully at Villanelle and said nothing at all.   
  
Behind David’s back Elena stuck two fingers in her mouth in a gesture that mimicked making herself sick and mouthed, ‘What the fuck?’ at Eve.   
  
Carolyn cleared her throat.  
  
“I think it’s time for something a bit stronger than tea.” Carolyn said, “Anybody for a G&T? Kenny makes a lovely G&T, don’t you Kenny?”  
  
“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Kenny nodded.  
  
“Fuck it, why not?” Elena said, heading off in the direction of the kitchen.   
  
David laughed.   
  
“Oh, I like her! Fuck it, why not?” he repeated. “Sophie? Will you be having a drink with us?”  
  
“No.” said Villanelle, expressionless.  
  
“Sophie isn’t much of a drinker. Are you, darling?” Eve said, attempting to cover for Villanelle’s blunt response.   
  
“No.” said Villanelle.  
  
“More for the rest of us then!” said David happily, winking at Eve conspiratorially.   
  
Villanelle looked to Eve with a dubious look on her face.   
  
“Sure.” Said Eve with false brightness.   
  
“Yes. Right. Shall we then?” Carolyn said, ushering David towards the kitchen.   
  
Eve hung back momentarily with Villanelle.   
  
“So, he’s a dickhead.” Eve said once the others were out of earshot. “But don’t worry darling, I’m sticking on the soda water tonight.” She added.  
  
“We should have stayed upstairs,” Villanelle said grumpily, taking Eve’s hand in her own almost possessively.   
  
Eve thought that if either of them should be feeling possessive it was most certainly herself. David obviously liked the look of Sophie Wilson.  
  
The two of them trudged in the direction of the kitchen where Eve made a beeline for Kenny who was already busy dropping ice cubes into glasses. She put a hand on his back and he leapt into the air at her touch, a couple of ice cubes hitting the floor and splitting next to his feet. From across the room, Villanelle scoffed quietly.   
  
“Sorry,” Eve said quietly, “just, no gin for me please, or Oks… Or Sophie.”   
  
“Oh. Yeah, no, OK.” Kenny replied, nodding emphatically.  
  
“Make mine a double though, yeah babe?” Elena called from her spot at the kitchen table.  
  
Kenny nodded again. Eve poured a couple of glasses of sparkling water for herself and Villanelle and then joined the others at the table in the empty seat next to Villanelle, who immediately slung an arm around the back of her chair.   
  
“So, Sophie.” David started, fixing Villanelle with a look from across the table. “What do you do?”   
  
“She’s a landscape gardener.” Said Carolyn before Villanelle could answer.  
  
Elena looked like she may have to leave the room to disguise her laughter at that particular image.  
  
“Yes.” Villanelle agreed. “I love… landscapes.” Her eyes flitting doubtfully to Carolyn who looked decidedly exasperated.   
  
“And David,” Eve said loudly whilst placing an unseen hand on Villanelle’s thigh, “Carolyn said you work in DC usually. What is it that _you_ do?”  
  
“Oh, you know, I have my part to play in congress.” He said proudly, “I enable liaisons, make things happen, shake it all up.”  
  
Eve looked at him with furrowed brows.  
  
“So you’re a congressman?” She asked for clarification.

“Oh no,” David laughed, “I’m more of a—”  
  
“Kenny, is there some sort of problem?” Carolyn called across the table, “Who knew a G&T was so complicated?” She said under her breath to the rest of the party.  
  
Elena did not look impressed by that comment, but within a moment or two Kenny arrived at the table with a drinks tray, ice cubes clinking noisily against glasses. He handed them out to Carolyn and Elena first.  
  
“Thanks babe,” Elena smiled gratefully at him.  
  
And then he reached across to place a glass in front of David, accidentally making eye contact with Villanelle who was seated opposite him. Villanelle curled her lip threateningly and showed him a section of her gleaming white teeth. The glass in Kenny’s hand slipped the final inch to the table, landing squarely but splashing some of its contents out. David lurched away from the slightly spilt drink and Kenny shuffled backwards, muttering an apology and finding his seat next to Elena, who put a hand on his arm comfortingly.  
  
Eve missed the snarl but caught a glimpse of a smirk on Villanelle’s face and guessed what had just happened. She gently kicked Villanelle in warning under the table, careful to be sure she caught Villanelle and not Martin, who was once again resting against her foot.  
  
“I’m still waiting to hear which of you people owns that beautiful car in the yard.” David enquired, looking around expectantly at everyone gathered at the table.   
  
“That is mine.” Villanelle said, as though she was torn between her love of her car and her distaste for David.   
  
“Well, I should have known. A beautiful car for a beautiful woman.” He said, shooting Villanelle what he probably thought was a winning smile. Eve wasn’t sure which part of that sentence bothered her more, the obvious flirtation with her partner, or the idea that anyone could think that awful car was beautiful.  
  
Villanelle frowned at him and then turned to Eve who was noticeably clenching her jaw. Carolyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“You’ll have to take me for a spin in her.” David said, oblivious to the tension in the room, “I just adore this funny English countryside, I’d love to see more of it.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure Sophie would _love_ to take you for a drive.” Eve answered with a sly smile.   
  
The rest of the group, with the exception of David, looked taken aback by this, but Eve had a head full of images of Villanelle barrelling around the country lanes, narrowly avoiding oncoming tractors and wiping that smarmy grin off David’s chiselled face as he clung terrified to his seat. Villanelle shot Eve a thoroughly baffled look, and Eve, for once, just shrugged.   
  
  
  
The evening passed in much the same manner as the drinks had, conversation was stilted but soon was mostly dominated by Elena who, after a few drinks, took to challenging most of what David said on the subject of… Well, anything. And he seemed to know a lot about everything. Even Carolyn, after a second gin, began to involve herself in their heated debates. Kenny remained tense and quiet throughout. Villanelle meanwhile had no trouble making her boredom quite clear, and spent much of the meal fiddling with Eve’s fingers on the tabletop and sighing loudly.  
  
They ate a meal prepared by Kenny and towards the end of it, as the evening was beginning to draw to a close, Villanelle had abandoned Eve’s fingers and relocated her attention to Eve’s lap as she began tracing her fingers around Eve’s thigh until Eve had been forced to capture Villanelle’s restless fingers in her own hand once more. Villanelle was becoming unmistakably impatient to return to their room.  
  
Eve let out an exaggerated yawn and stood from the table, Villanelle leaping to her feet next to her, scraping her chair back noisily in the process.  
  
“Kenny, dinner was lovely thank-you. But I think it’s time for me to head to bed.” Eve let out courteously.   
  
“Yes.” Villanelle rushed to agree. “I am going to bed. Very tired.”  
  
“Well then we must let you get your beauty sleep,” said David, now almost slurring. “Though I must say you hardly need it.” He added, tossing a wink in Villanelle’s direction.   
  
Villanelle looked mildly repulsed and made no attempt to hide her feelings, or to respond. Eve was quietly seething.   
  
“Right.” Eve said, through gritted teeth. “Goodnight everybody.” She called as she walked around to the other side of the table.   
  
Elena caught Eve’s hand as she walked past and pulled Eve into a one-armed hug, forcing Eve to bend awkwardly over the back of Elena’s chair.  
  
“Night babe.” Elena said.  
  
Villanelle waited agitatedly for Elena to release her and then herded Eve out of the kitchen. They had just reached the hall when Carolyn caught up with them.   
  
“Sophie!” She called. “I’ll have that word with you now please.”   
  
“Now?” Villanelle asked exasperatedly. “We can do it in the morning.” And she began to head for the stairs.  
  
“No.” Carolyn said firmly, and Villanelle stopped, “We can talk now.”   
  
“I’ll see you upstairs darling.” Eve said in a hushed tone. “Be nice.” Villanelle nodded, and Eve disappeared up the stairs.  
  
“Well?” Villanelle asked impatiently. Carolyn raised a singular eyebrow at her, as though daring her to keep up with this attitude.   
  
“ _Well_ ,” Carolyn started, and then her voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “You will remember when Konstantin and I agreed on your new position with MI6 that it was mentioned that you may occasionally undertake some… extra work for us?”  
  
“What extra work?” Villanelle asked, not bothering to match Carolyn’s low volume. Carolyn raised both eyebrows now warningly and Villanelle sighed.  
  
“What extra work?” She asked again, in an exaggerated whisper.  
  
“Work more akin to the kind that you’re used to… the kind that you’re _trained_ for?” Carolyn prompted. A look of realisation spread across Villanelle’s features, followed by a smile.   
  
“Oh yes.” Villanelle breathed, “I remember.”  
  
“Very good.” Carolyn said, nodding, “Well, I have some of that extra work for you. A target, so to speak.”  
  
Villanelle nodded, waiting for Carolyn to elaborate.   
  
“I want you to make sure that David doesn’t survive this weekend, hmm?” Carolyn let out casually and Villanelle felt a familiar burst of warmth start in her stomach and spread through to her extremities. She shuddered.  
  
“Can you do that?” Carolyn asked, almost patronisingly.  
  
“Oh, I can do that. I will like that a lot.” Villanelle agreed hungrily.  
  
“Splendid.” Carolyn nodded once and started to return to the kitchen. “Oh, and Sophie?” she called over her shoulder, “Probably best not to tell Eve.”


	5. Not So Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Everyone! Have a wonderful day if you celebrate and a wonderful day if you don't. Thank-you all for your support of this little series of mine, and for all your lovely comments. (This isn't the last chapter or anything, it just felt like an appropriate moment to thank you all.) Enjoy yourselves people!

Once Carolyn had left her in the hall, Villanelle took a deep breath, trying to regain control over her now racing pulse. She could feel her blood pumping, could almost hear it. There was an electric current throbbing through her veins and her hearing had become muffled, as though she was underwater.  
  
So far she hadn’t missed her old job. She had Eve, she had a nice home, someone to watch movies with, and the satisfaction had been seeping out of her kills anyway. But this one, this one felt good. She didn’t like David. She would enjoy killing him. She would relish watching the life leak from him.  
  
Villanelle began to make her way up the stairs, ignoring the plump little dog panting his way up behind her. She walked slowly, her mind examining all the different ways in which she could bring an end to that asshole. The warmth in her stomach was familiar and comforting and she felt herself smiling softly as she reached the landing and made her way along to the room she was sharing with Eve.  
  
Eve. She wasn’t meant to tell Eve. That seemed to go against everything that Eve had told her about making their relationship work. Though Eve hadn’t liked it when Villanelle said she looked shit that morning. Perhaps sometimes it was alright not to share absolutely everything. And Carolyn did say not to tell Eve. Carolyn was technically her boss, and Eve did presumably want her to keep her job.  
  
Villanelle had a lot to think about now. His death would need to look accidental, believable. She would need to get closer with him. Ugh. That wasn’t an appealing idea. But it certainly wouldn’t be difficult. He wanted to fuck her. She knew that well enough. The idea made her feel sick and that in turned made her even more excited about killing him. Something bloody would be nice; there was a certain primitive thrill in feeling the viscid warmth of fresh blood on her hands. But it was messy. She couldn’t shoot him, that would be too quick. And too obviously a murder…  
  
She had reached the door to their room and opened it, still distracted by her appointed task. Eve looked up as the door opened. She was rummaging in her suitcase – though there could hardly be much left in there that she hadn’t unpacked earlier. The door to the en suite bathroom was ajar and the light was pouring out into the main room, which was lit only by a lamp. Eve pulled her hand from her suitcase and in it was a box of tampons. Villanelle looked from the box to Eve, who was looking back at her apprehensively.  
  
“Really?” Villanelle asked, trying half-heartedly to hide her dismay but her shoulders had immediately dropped when she spotted the box.  
  
“Sorry darling.” Eve said apologetically.  
  
Villanelle pursed her lips and appeared to consider her next move carefully.  
  
“I do not mind blood.” She said comfortingly.  
  
“Ew Oksana!” Eve exclaimed. “I mean, I know that’s true. But ew! No.”  
  
Villanelle simply shrugged at her as though she couldn’t understand Eve’s problem.  
  
“What?” Villanelle asked, “really, I do not mind. I have done it before.”  
  
Eve looked at her appalled.  
  
“Don’t tell me that!” Eve almost shrieked. “Wait. With who? No! Don’t tell me. Was it Anna? I don’t want to know. Was it?”  
  
Villanelle’s eyes darted back and forth in confusion, unsure whether she was supposed to answer or not. She opened her mouth to respond though she was not at all sure what she was about to say.  
  
“It was Anna?” She let out uncertainly.  
  
“Was it? Why did you say that like it was a question?” Eve demanded.  
  
“Because… I don’t know what you want me to say…” Villanelle said carefully. Eve had burst into tears twice in the last 24 hours; Villanelle didn’t want to see it happen a third time.  
  
“Sorry.” Eve sighed, regaining some control of her senses and her tone. “Sorry, Oksana. That wasn’t fair of me to ask.”    
  
“I mean, it sort of happened… during?” Villanelle said slowly, keeping her eyes cautiously on Eve as though she may be about to spontaneously combust.  
  
“OK!” Eve’s volume was up again and her eyes were wide. “OK. Thank-you. For… sharing. But you don’t have… I don’t need to… that’s… OK.” Eve finished.  
  
“OK.” Villanelle agreed, not entirely sure was she was agreeing on.  
  
“But still, I don’t think… We’re not at home. Those sheets are… white. And it would be… messy.” Eve said, making a slightly sickened expression as she uttered the word ‘messy’.  
  
Villanelle shrugged again, disappointed, but now mostly trying to avoid upsetting Eve.  
  
“But I can still do you!” Eve insisted hurriedly and then cringed at her choice of words.  
  
Villanelle smiled at Eve and tilted her head to one side.  
  
“Oh Oksana,” Villanelle said in a startling good imitation of Eve’s own voice, “You have such a way with words.” she finished mimicking Eve’s words from earlier that day.  
  
Eve looked shocked.  
  
“OK, I feel like I should be worried that you can do that so well.” Eve said seriously.  
  
Villanelle flashed her a dangerous smile. And Eve shook her head in resignation.  
  
“But seriously darling, I know you need it.” Eve said sympathetically.  
  
Villanelle did need it. That was true. But, she had wanted Eve as well, she liked it best when they were both satisfied. She craved her fix of Eve’s body almost as vehemently as she pursued her own release. And yet Eve seemed almost repulsed by the idea of Villanelle fucking her in her current state. Villanelle failed to see an issue with it; it was only natural after all.  
  
Now that she had been forced to remember, Villanelle recalled Anna’s mortified expression when Villanelle had raised bloodied fingers for her to see. Anna had covered her face and muttered apologies. She had attempted to squirm away but Villanelle had held her firmly in place and finished the job at hand, so to speak. Villanelle had been younger then, a furious teenager, and more forceful; she had still been in the habit of withholding power from those around her as though it would somehow give her back some of the control that had been taken from her. Villanelle knew better now. She would never treat Eve that way.  Villanelle wouldn’t pin Eve down and ignore her protests until they became pleasure cries once more. No, she would care for Eve instead.  
  
And besides, Villanelle had been given something else to look forward to, something that required her time and meticulous planning. She would let Eve go to sleep; she must be tired after her late night and her hangover. Villanelle could hold Eve close while she slept and plot David’s demise and that would satisfy her. Well, it would satisfy her enough for now. Or it wouldn’t, and she could masturbate in the shower. Either way, Eve should be allowed to sleep.  
  
“I’m fine.” Villanelle said. She wondered now if Eve had been lying too when she said the same thing earlier.  
  
Eve narrowed her eyes sceptically.  
  
“You’re fine? You, Oksana Astankova, don’t want me to get you off?” Eve asked pointedly. Then, “Why is there no good way to word that?” she added, speaking mostly to herself.  
  
“Yep,” Villanelle replied, ignoring Eve’s second question, “I’m fine. Would you like me to run you a bath?”  
  
“Oh, um, no, that’s alright, thank-you though, darling.” Eve said, still confused by this turn of events.  
  
“OK,” Villanelle said brightly, “Let’s go to bed then baby, yes?”  
  
“Uh… Yeah, sure. Let me just…” Eve held up the box that was still in her grasp and gestured to the bathroom.  
  
Villanelle nodded, smiling softly at Eve, who continued to look at her somewhat suspiciously.  
  
“You might want to say goodnight to your friend.” Eve said finally, nodding towards the door that Villanelle had not fully closed behind her.  
  
Eve backed into the bathroom and shut the door. Villanelle span on the spot expecting to see somebody at the door, but there was nobody there. Or at least, she thought there was nobody there until she noticed Martin gazing up at her from just inside the door, evidently trying to make his way further into the room before he was detected. His stub of a tail wagged so frantically his whole rear end moved with it as he noticed Villanelle’s attention on him.  
  
“No!” Shouted Villanelle. “Out! Get out!”  
  
She used her foot to push his podgy mass out of the door and closed it firmly. From the bathroom she could hear Eve snickering.  
  
“Horrible creature.” Villanelle spat.  
  
  
  
Hours later and Villanelle remained awake. She had listened to the sounds of the other occupants of the house making their way to their bedrooms. She wondered which room was David’s; she might need to figure that out tomorrow. Her own bedroom was now shrouded almost completely in darkness bar the cool light filtered in by the almost full moon outside. It was silent now, so different from the noise of Eve’s London home where distant sirens and planes approaching and departing the nearby airports formed an almost constant soundscape, though she barely noticed it when she was there. Nestled in her arms, Eve slept peacefully, her body warm and comforting against Villanelle’s and her quiet breaths the only sound to permeate the silence.  
  
Villanelle was alert. Her eyes were wide, and the whites of them caught in the moonlight as she lay on her back, one arm folded behind her head and the other resting in Eve’s hair. Eve had succumbed to slumber in her preferred position, her cheek resting against Villanelle’s chest. Villanelle faintly wondered if Eve could hear her heartbeat as she slept. But mostly Villanelle’s mind remained focused on her assignment. She had drawn up a mental list of all the ways she would _like_ to dispatch David and then reorganised them in order of their practicality and likelihood to fit the assumed brief of being discrete. For a while she had been side tracked in her fantasies of which method would bring her the most pleasure. She had felt her pulse quicken and her breathing become somewhat laboured, her hand had made its way instinctively between her own legs and she had run her fingers through herself once before even noticing what she was doing. Eve had stirred in her arms as Villanelle had let out an involuntary whimper and Villanelle had pulled her hand away, folding her arm between her head and the soft pillow and exhaling slowly.  
  
That had been odd. Perhaps Villanelle needed her release even more than she realised. Usually she did not touch herself to thoughts of death and destruction, despite what some of her psychologists had tried to imply. Sex and death were opposites in Villanelle’s mind, though both gave her immense gratification. She often sought out sex after a job, that was true, but that was because death made her feel alive. That must be it then. In the course of the past hour she had killed David a dozen times over, no wonder she was feeling… stimulated.  
  
By the time the bedroom began to grow lighter, as the silvery light warmed with sunrise, Villanelle had made a shortlist of options. She had held a tight grip over her thoughts to avoid any further detours and now felt confident in her ability to carry out her duty. Her first job was to get David to trust her, that would be easy but unpleasant and the pay off was bound to be worth it though.  
  
Eve stirred against her once more, stretching her body out until it was taut and then relaxing it with a sigh and nuzzling her face into Villanelle’s chest as though she was attempting to burrow right inside her. Villanelle watched until she was sure that Eve was regaining consciousness and then she pressed a kiss to Eve’s forehead, smoothing her hair out of the way.  
  
“Good morning, baby.” Villanelle whispered.  
  
Eve screwed her eyes more tightly closed and moaned tiredly. Villanelle’s body responded enthusiastically against her will to the sound.  
  
“Morning, Oksana.” Eve said softly, “Did you sleep well?”  
  
“I had a pleasant night.” Villanelle reasoned, it was true after all. Eve hummed and tightened her grip around Villanelle’s waist then groaned.  
  
“Ugh. A whole day of David.” Eve grumbled.  
  
Villanelle smiled, thankful her face was out of Eve’s sight.  
  
“He’s not so bad.” Villanelle said diplomatically, she didn’t need Eve getting suspicious. She was going to have to play nice with David for a while after all.  
  
“What?” Eve asked, lifting her head to look at Villanelle, astounded, “You’re kidding, right?”  
  
Villanelle lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.  
  
“Oksana, that man is a total dick.” Eve said determinedly, staring at Villanelle for a moment and then, “Ohhhh, I get it. He fancies you _and_ he likes your car. Is that it?”  
  
“No.” Villanelle said stubbornly. Eve laughed.  
  
“Oh, it so is!” Eve exclaimed. “God, your ego!”  
  
Villanelle turned her face away, avoiding Eve’s incredulous look.  
  
“Well,” Eve began, returning her face to its position on Villanelle’s chest, “If our roles were reversed you would be ready to slit his throat.” She said matter-of-factly.  
  
“What do you mean?” Villanelle asked cautiously. Was Eve onto her?  
  
“If he were flirting with _me_ incessantly, you would be furious. But it’s you he likes, so he’s ‘not so bad’.” Eve explained with a chuckle. Villanelle tensed beneath her.  
  
“He would not dare.” Villanelle hissed.  
  
“Oh darling, I think he definitely would.” Eve laughed, scratching her fingertips across Villanelle’s stomach soothingly. “But it’s you he’s got his sights set on, so I think his throat is safe.”  
  
Villanelle’s muscles relaxed and she felt her body sink further into the soft mattress as she hummed absent-mindedly in response and felt Eve shake her head in amusement against her chest. Villanelle could work with this, use it to her advantage, if it was Eve that David was focusing his attentions on then he may not have survived the night, let alone the weekend.  
  
  
It took Eve a while to extract herself from the warm bed that morning, even after Villanelle had risen, stretched and showered. Eve had remained cocooned in the sheets simply surveying a towel-dried naked Villanelle assess her outfit choices for the day ahead.  
  
“I can feel you watching me, baby.” Villanelle had said, her back to Eve as she chose a soft sweater from the wardrobe and placed it on the end of the bed.  
  
“Are you suggesting that you mind?” Eve drawled from her resting place against the pillows.  
  
“No.” Villanelle replied, still not facing Eve, but bending – and Eve suspected she was doing so purposefully slowly – to pick underwear from the drawer that Eve had designated for it. “But it is making me want you and you won’t let me have you, so…” Villanelle trailed off.  
  
Eve felt guilty at that.  
  
“Sorry darling. I’ll stop. I should get up, anyway.” Eve sighed and threw the sheets from her pyjama-clad body.  
  
She padded across the cold floor to where Villanelle was just pulling on her underwear and placed an apologetic kiss on the younger woman’s lips.  
  
“Eve,” Villanelle complained, elongating the name, as she tried to chase Eve’s lips and was met with nothing but cool air.  
  
“Won’t be long,” Eve said as she headed into the bathroom, “Then we can go find breakfast.”  
  
Villanelle simply watched as the bathroom door closed with Eve behind it. There was an energy thrumming through Villanelle today and it needed sating one way or another.  
  
Eve was true to her word and not long later the two of them were following the scent of sizzling bacon down to the kitchen. On the stairs Villanelle’s stomach emitted a loud grumble and Eve chuckled.  
  
“Hungry, darling?” Eve asked.  
  
“Ravenous,” Villanelle agreed, slipping her hand into the waistband of Eve’s corduroy knee-length skirt. It was paired with thick tights and a cashmere sweater with a shirt beneath. Villanelle had approved the outfit on the stipulation that the shirt and sweater were not, in fact, attached. She had been joking of course; she had bought every component of the ensemble for Eve personally.  
  
The pair entered the kitchen to the noise of cordial chatter. Elena and Kenny were at the table with a pot of strong-smelling coffee, while David, complete with a _Kiss The Chef_ apron, was manning the bacon and eggs at the stove. As Eve and Villanelle arrived he turned, spatula in hand to greet them.  
  
“Good morning folks!” David exclaimed jovially, smiling briefly at Eve before moving his eye-line at once to Villanelle appreciatively.  
  
“Perhaps I was wrong about that beauty sleep after all,” he said, gesturing at Villanelle with his spatula, “Sophie, you look even more radiant this morning.”  
  
Elena caught Eve’s eye and raised her eyebrows at her. Eve was about to respond, though she hadn’t quite decided how when—

“Oh, David, stop!” Villanelle issued with an honest-to-God giggle, her Sophie Wilson accent back in action.  
  
Eve turned to look at her open-mouthed.  
  
“What the fuck?” Elena muttered under her breath.  
  
“Where’s Carolyn?” Eve asked, choosing to direct attention away from whatever the hell Villanelle was playing at. Villanelle was playful by nature, Eve knew that, but currently Eve didn’t have the patience for it.  
  
“Mum’s on the phone in the drawing room.” Kenny supplied. “Coffee, Eve?” He offered, holding up the coffee pot.  
  
“That would be great, thanks Kenny.” Eve said gratefully.  
  
Villanelle sauntered over to where David was focused on the bacon.  
  
“That smells divine.” She said silkily.  
  
“Can’t beat it,” David agreed with a laugh, “Hope you’re hungry, Soph.”  
  
“ _Soph?”_ Elena mouthed at Kenny, who looked even more uncomfortable than usual. Eve simply stared across the kitchen at Villanelle.  
  
“Eve, babe. You look great, by the way.” Elena said, more loudly than necessary, “I just _love_ this outfit on you.” She said, casting a sideways glance at Villanelle’s back and tugging on the hem of Eve’s sweater. Eve looked at her in confusion.  
  
Across the room, Villanelle span around and narrowed her eyes at Elena, who returned her gaze unflinchingly.  
  
“I bought it for her.” Villanelle growled. 

“Well, like I said, Eve looks fantastic.” Elena said confidently to Villanelle, then returned her attention to Eve, “Turn around babe, your arse in this skirt—”  
  
Villanelle took an automatic stride towards the table and Kenny shot backwards, his chair scraping loudly on the stone floor.  
  
“Sophie clearly has excellent taste.” David said with a laugh, entirely oblivious to the fizzing tension in the room.  
  
“Thank-you David. I simply know what I like.” Villanelle replied suggestively, making no further steps towards Elena but shooting her a warning look nonetheless before turning her back on them all once more.  
  
“Elena, don’t.” Kenny said lowly, pleadingly. Elena held her hands up in surrender, a wordless promise to Kenny that she wouldn’t push Villanelle any further. She sent a sympathetic look Eve’s way. Eve continued to remain in baffled silence, unsure of Villanelle’s game here, but also unwilling to involve herself in it.  
  
“So, David,” Villanelle started, locating plates in a nearby cupboard and bringing five of them to the stove side to help him plate up breakfast. “How about that spin in the car today?” She offered.  
  
“You must have read my mind,” he agreed heartily, dishing out bacon and eggs onto the plates that Villanelle held out for him one-by-one. “I’d love to get the engine revving a bit,” he added with a wink.  
  
Villanelle looked away bashfully and giggled once more. The sound sliced through Eve like a knife, it was such an unnatural noise for Villanelle. Eve didn’t even know the other woman could make such a sound.  
  
Villanelle and David distributed plates around those at the table before taking their seats. Villanelle took the empty spot next to Eve, with David opposite.  
  
“Eve, will you join us for a drive?” Villanelle asked as though nothing utterly bizarre had just occurred.  
  
Eve opened her mouth to respond but Elena got there first.  
  
“Eve and I are going to have a catch up this morning, right babe?” Elena asked, widening her eyes at Eve so that she might react as though this plan had already been discussed. Eve nodded, expressionless. Villanelle rolled her eyes.

“You didn’t catch up enough at the office party?” Villanelle asked, trying to disguise her anger beneath Sophie’s accent.  
  
“Don’t worry, Soph, we can have a bit of fun without the other half, right?” David said smiling as though he was joking, though everyone present suspected he was not.  
  
Villanelle smiled sweetly.  
  
“Of course… Dave.” She replied.  
  
Elena scoffed and Kenny elbowed her quickly, shooting a frantic glance at Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle attempted to catch Eve’s eye throughout the remainder of breakfast, but Eve kept her eyes on her plate.  
  
When everyone was finished, David leant back from the table and let out a satisfied sigh.  
  
“Well, that filled a hole.” He said, using a napkin to wipe bacon grease from his stubble.  
  
“Soph, just let me grab my wallet and we can go for a ride.” He added, standing from the table and striding out of the room. Villanelle threw a closed-lipped smile his way but made no verbal response.  
  
“Baby,” Villanelle started, reaching a hand out to Eve’s arm, “Come with us.”  
  
Eve glanced at Villanelle briefly before also standing from the table, letting Villanelle’s hand drop from her its perch on her arm.  
  
“No, no, you go.” Eve said.  
  
There was no way she was going for an unnecessary excursion in that car with or without Dave the Dickhead. She wasn’t sure what Villanelle was playing at, whether she realised she was flirting with this insufferable man, or whether she just thought she was following Eve’s advice from the previous day and being polite.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Villanelle asked, a note of concern in her voice. Elena rolled her eyes.  
  
“Nothing.” Eve asserted. “I’m going to do the washing up.”  
  
“OK, baby.” Villanelle said, wandering over to Eve and pressing a kiss into her cheek. “I’ll see you later.” She began to head to the door.  
  
“Fucking clueless.” Elena muttered as Villanelle passed her. Villanelle stopped.  
  
“What?” she demanded. Elena turned to glare at Villanelle, about to respond.  
  
“Nothing!” Kenny yelped. “She didn’t say anything!” He grabbed onto Elena’s elbow and yanked her from the table and out of the room, but not before Elena shook her head disapprovingly at Villanelle whilst being dragged backwards through the doorway by a desperate Kenny.  
  
Villanelle turned to Eve, ready to make clear her renewed dislike of Elena, only to find that Eve hadn’t been watching any of their interaction, but was standing with her back to Villanelle at the sink.  
  
Villanelle shrugged it off instead and made her way upstairs to retrieve her car keys and perhaps her favourite knife. It was always best to be prepared for any unforeseen opportunity after all.  
  



	6. You Have No Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all survived Christmas successfully. Enjoy!

There was a light covering of frost that morning and the fields surrounding the house were dusted with chilled silver. Villanelle’s breath appeared in clouds of steam over the top of her scarf as she surveyed David silently. Villanelle was poised, leaning against the driver’s door of her car, as David circled the car, examining it from all angles.  
  
“It really is a fantastic vehicle,” David let out as he continued his appraisal, gravel crunching coldly beneath his shoes as he went.  
  
“I’m glad you think so. You must have good taste too.” Villanelle smiled.   
  
She could feel the weight of her knife in her jeans pocket, comfortingly snug against her thigh. She would like to ram it into David’s femoral artery. That would feel good.  
  
“Quite a masculine car though, if you don’t mind me saying,” David called from where he was examining the over-shined hubcaps on the other side of the car. “Though you are certainly all-woman.” He added, rounding the front of the car and sending a wide smile Villanelle’s way, his eyes dropping leeringly to her chest.  
  
The concealed knife was feeling more tempting to Villanelle by the second. The feel of his eyes roaming her body made her blood simmer. Only one person was granted permission to enjoy her in that way.  
  
“Is it masculine?” Villanelle asked, perfectly calm, in Sophie Wilson’s voice, “I prefer to think of it as powerful,” she mused. “And I like feeling… powerful.” She added, holding David’s gaze confidently.    
  
David’s smile grew excited.  
  
“Shall we?” Villanelle asked, pushing herself off the car and gesturing back at it.  
  
“Sure. Show me what she can do.” David agreed, smiling wolfishly and returning to the passenger side to hop in.   
  
Villanelle climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her, pulling on her seatbelt in one smooth movement. She started the engine and revved it needlessly before slamming the shift into reverse and shooting backwards, spraying gravel across the driveway. David lurched forward at the sudden movement and narrowly avoided hitting his head on the dashboard in front.   
  
“Oops!” Villanelle let out innocently, “Seatbelt on.” She added sweetly.   
  
“Phew!” David exclaimed, “You don’t mess around, huh?” he laughed.  
  
“Don’t I?” Villanelle asked teasingly as David secured his seatbelt. He looked up at her and smiled knowingly, then Villanelle tore off down the driveway. David grabbed at the handle on the armrest of his door and let out a hearty laugh.  
  
  
  
Eve was taking her time on the washing up. Kenny and Elena hadn’t returned from upstairs, and Eve was relishing the calm. She was feeling a little unsettled. Villanelle’s behaviour with David over breakfast had been odd and Eve couldn’t figure out her angle. Yesterday, Villanelle seemed to be on the same page as Eve as far as David was concerned; she barely even tried to hide her dislike for him. Today, she had willingly gone out in the car with him. Just him. Surely she didn’t want to show off The Monstrosity so badly that would stomach his slimy attempts to flirt with her just so that he might coo over the voice activated sound system.  
  
Oh God. Or was that just it? Was it the flirting Villanelle enjoyed? Was Villanelle relishing the attention from him because Eve hadn’t had sex with her in, God forbid, a _whole three days_? No, that couldn’t be it. Right? It’s not like Eve hadn’t offered… Sure, she hadn’t been particularly romantic in her suggestion that she would still ‘Do’ Villanelle but if Villanelle was that desperate for it, surely that would preferable to David’s shit lines. Then again, Villanelle’s ego knew no bounds.  
  
“Oh. Eve. You’re still here.”   
  
It was Carolyn. Eve looked over her shoulder in confusion, keeping her wet hands over the sink.   
  
“You invited us for the whole weekend,” Eve replied slowly, her brows furrowed.  
  
“I know that, Eve. I meant, I thought I just heard that hideous car redistributing the gravel outside.” Carolyn explained.  
  
“Yeah. You probably did. Villanelle has taken David for a drive.” Eve replied, her tone somewhat flat.   
  
“Really?” Carolyn asked, perking up. “She doesn’t mess around, does she?” She muttered mostly to herself.   
  
What was Carolyn talking about? Eve was confused. Eve felt like she spent most of her life confused these days.  
  
“Why are you washing up?” Carolyn asked pointedly, nodding at Eve’s soapy hands hovering over the sink.   
  
“We just had breakfast…” Eve said deliberately, wondering if perhaps Carolyn was actually the one that was confused. She was making little sense this morning.   
  
“Yes, but there’s a dishwasher.” Carolyn let out breezily and then strode to open a cupboard and reveal a dishwasher inside.   
  
“Shit.” Eve sighed.   
  
“Quite.” Carolyn agreed. “I think I’ll read my book for a while now. I’ve nearly finished it. A terrific romance. Do you read romance novels, Eve?” she queried.  
  
Eve was taken aback.   
  
“Uh…No…I…” for years the only novels she read were those chosen by her book group, and never had she read a romance novel. She read criminal psychology books for pleasure. “I read criminal psychology books mostly.”   
  
Carolyn considered her for a moment.   
  
“Yes, well, it appears you do have a type. Perhaps those are romance novels for you.” She murmured before raising her voice again, “Join me if you like, I’ll be in the drawing room.”   
  
And with that Carolyn departed the kitchen as suddenly as she’d arrived, leaving Eve bewildered at the sink, the soapsuds dripping slowly from her fingers.   
  
  
  
Villanelle’s car barrelled down the country lanes, occasionally startling a pheasant from the verge and sending waves of muddy water into the hedgerows each time it encountered a puddle on the road surface.  
  
“There’s quite an age gap between you and Eve,” David pointed out, speaking loudly over the road noise in the car. “How did you guys meet?”  
  
“We met in a bathroom.” Villanelle replied, not bothering to fight the smile that took over her face as she remembered that meeting. She would never forget walking out of that cubicle and catching sight of Eve. She had the added benefit of the mirror in front, she had been able to see Eve’s magnificent hair and her beautiful face at the same time. Villanelle had felt immediately charged after that initial interaction with Eve. What she had done subsequently in the hospital room had been particularly intense. Looking back perhaps the two were linked.  
  
“A bathroom!” David exclaimed, grabbing his armrest once more as Villanelle showed no signs of slowing down for an upcoming bridge in the road. “And what? It was love at first sight?” He asked with a chuckle, as though the idea was preposterous.  
  
“Something like that,” Villanelle agreed, pressing her foot down further on the accelerator. It had been lust at first sight for sure, on her part at least. She didn’t know when the love aspect had developed. But it certainly had, and its roots now grew deeper than she had previously thought possible.  
  
“She’s old enough to be your mother, though.” David said, still with laughter in his voice. “It’s not some mommy issue thing, is it?” He added with a smirk.  
  
Villanelle lifted her foot from the accelerator and jammed it onto the break instead. David was flung into his seatbelt harshly and Villanelle hoped it would leave a satisfying bruise.  
  
“There’s a lot to be said for someone with… experience. You know?” Villanelle responded to David’s question, accelerating once more and ignoring the way he rubbed desperately at his chest. He didn’t need to know that Eve had never slept with a woman before Villanelle. He didn’t need to know that if either of them were experienced, it was Villanelle and not Eve.  
  
“Why did you break like that?” David gasped.  
  
“There was a pigeon.” Villanelle said simply.  
  
“A pigeon!” David was laughing once more, evidently the seatbelt hadn’t hurt him enough. “You’re a riot, Soph.”   
  
Villanelle’s hand clenched on the steering wheel.  
  
“Oh David,” She said, “You have no idea.”   
  
  
  
Eve trudged up the stairs to return to her bedroom for a while. She wouldn’t mind that catch up with Elena, but she wasn’t going to disturb her time with Kenny. It was only when Eve was nearing the closed door of her room that she registered the huddled shape against it.   
  
“Hey Martin,” Eve said quietly.  
  
The pug leapt up and span around, his tail wagging. He saw that it was Eve who had disturbed him and his tail slowed its manic wagging somewhat, but he still trotted towards her.  
  
Eve looked down at his flat face momentarily and then crouched down to pat him tentatively on the head. He instantly began panting, his pink tongue lolling out, before rolling clumsily onto his back and presenting Eve with his tummy.  
  
“Oh, OK.” Eve sighed, rubbing the dog’s tan tummy for a moment or two. “At least you’re easy to understand, huh?”   
  
Eve stood again, feeling her knees protest the crouched position she had held for a second too long. She was feeling bloated and tired and altogether out of sorts, she may as well have a nap. Christmas was about unplanned naps, after all. Eve opened the door to her room and took a step inside.  
  
Martin half pulled himself upright again and watched Eve as he lounged dejectedly on the floor. Eve sighed.  
  
“Come on then,” she muttered, “But you’ll be in trouble if she catches you.”   
  
Eve held the door to the bedroom open and Martin bustled his way in as quickly as Eve had ever seen him move, as though he thought she might change her mind.   
  
  
  
Villanelle noticed David shifting in his seat in her peripheral vision.  
  
“Too hot? Want me to turn the heat down in your seat? It has three settings.” She asked, trying to sound concerned.  
  
“Actually, do you mind if we pull over for a second, Soph?” David asked  
  
“Why? Everything OK?” Villanelle asked, glancing at him momentarily, as she passed another car on the road, so close the wing-mirrors almost clashed.  
  
“All good,” David assured her, “I just had a little too much coffee at breakfast, if you catch my drift.”  
  
It took Villanelle a moment but she did eventually ‘catch his drift’. He needed a piss. Why didn’t people just say what they needed? Everybody pisses.  
  
“Of course,” Villanelle let out sympathetically. She swung the car almost immediately into the gateway of a field, the tyres skidding in mud.  
  
“Thanks.” David sighed, “Won’t be a minute.” He grinned at her and climbed out of the car, leaping the gate with some agility and then standing with his back to Villanelle as he relieved himself.   
  
Villanelle watched closely and quivered. She pulled her knife from her pocket and ran her fingers along its handle, back and forth, back and forth. She thought of Frank. She remembered holding his flaccid dick in her hand. She remembered the potency she felt in that moment. She remembered the blood. He had been dead already and the blood had oozed slowly but it had been warm still, and thick. David deserved that fate too, but she would be less kind with him. She wouldn’t kill him first. His blood wouldn’t ooze, it would pump out, plentifully. It would be fitting in fact. And sure, it would hardly look accidental, but Carolyn could figure out how to cover that up. That wasn’t part of Villanelle’s job description. Villanelle could feel her body temperature rising.  
  
She reached for the door handle, and flicked open the knife in her other hand. Just as she pulled the handle towards herself, David gave himself a shake and Villanelle saw the motion of him zipping his trousers once more. Then he was walking back towards her and she quickly averted her gaze. She had missed her chance this time but he had caught her looking and gave a smug smirk.   
  
Villanelle started the engine and swung the car in the direction of the house. She needed to calm herself down again. It wouldn’t do to get reckless like this.   
  
  
  
  
Villanelle had returned from her drive with David and needed to see Eve. She needed the comfort and the security that being around the other woman brought her. She needed something to soothe the ire that was building within her. She had left David in the drawing room with Carolyn. He had wanted to catch up on the news and ‘fire off a few emails’. And so Villanelle had gone in search of Eve. She checked the kitchen first and found it deserted and so she had ventured to their room and opened the door to find the room dimmed with closed curtains.  
  
“Eve?” Villanelle whispered from their bedroom doorway. “Baby?”  
  
There was no response from the Eve shaped figure in their bed. Villanelle frowned and edged into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.   
  
“Eve!” She tried again, rounding the bed and perching next to Eve, reaching out a hand to the sleeping woman’s face. Eve was fast asleep, breathing softly, and entirely unaware of Villanelle’s presence.   
  
“Poor baby,” Villanelle said, her voice barely audible. Eve must still be feeling tired, and she had said her stomach was sore earlier.  
  
Villanelle’s hand was just about to make contact with Eve’s cheek when there was movement from the other side of the bed. Martin had stretched himself along Eve’s back, hardly visible in the darkened room, but at the sound of Villanelle’s voice he had stirred. Now, after assessing his location and the noise that had woken him, he propped himself up on Eve’s side and peered at Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle leapt to her feet at the sudden movement, her knife in her hand within a split second, an automatic response.  
  
“You!” She bellowed at Martin, “Off!” She yelled, “Off the bed!”  
  
Villanelle’s shouting had roused Eve suddenly from her sleep and she blinked her eyes open to be greeted by the sight of Villanelle towering over her and brandishing a knife.  
  
Eve let out a horrified scream.  
  
“What?!” Villanelle shouted at her, alarmed, “What’s wrong?” She demanded, glancing around herself frantically for the source of Eve’s fear.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing with that?” Eve shrieked, shuffling up against the headboard and pulling her knees to her chest.   
  
Villanelle looked momentarily puzzled, and then realised Eve was referring the knife she was still grasping.  
  
“Ohhhh!” Villanelle let out with a chuckle, the tension draining from her body. She dropped her knife flourishing hand to her side. “Silly baby. You thought I would hurt you?” She asked, still amused but with a hint of hurt in her voice too.  
  
Eve continued to stare at her in shock. Villanelle hadn’t seen that raw look of fear on Eve’s face since the first time she visited her house and it upset her more acutely than she expected.  
  
“It’s not for you!” Villanelle insisted, flapping her arms at her sides exasperatedly. She was no longer seeing any humour in the situation.

 

“It’s for that.” Villanelle nodded at Martin who was now pressed up against Eve and shaking slightly, his bulbous eyes trained on Villanelle.  
  
“For… the dog?” Eve stammered. “You pulled a knife on the dog?” she asked, her voice gaining confidence.  
  
“I don’t want it in my bed.” Villanelle explained as though her actions were entirely natural.  
  
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Eve muttered, throwing off the sheets and standing from the bed, her stomach cramping as she did so.   
  
“Put the fucking knife away.” She said as she pushed her way past Villanelle towards the bathroom.  
  
“Eve!” Villanelle let out, turning to watch Eve disappear into the bathroom. Behind her, Martin dropped to the floor with a clatter and slunk under the nearest nightstand.  
  
There was a banging at the closed bedroom door.  
  
“EVE!” Shouted Elena from the other side. “We heard screaming, what’s going on?”  
  
“She’s fine.” Villanelle drawled, her voice loud enough to pass through the solid door.  
  
“I’m talking to Eve.” Elena called back determinedly.   
  
Villanelle sighed; all she needed was Elena meddling. She had thought this weekend would be nice for Eve, she had thought Eve wanted to spend time with her friends, but today everything felt wrong. Maybe it was just Eve’s hormones. Perhaps she should suggest that to her.  
  
Villanelle threw her knife onto the bed haphazardly and bent down, shoving her hand beneath the nightstand and extracting Martin, who put up minimal resistance, and then attempted to lick her hands. Evidently he had forgiven his favourite for thrusting a knife at him.  
  
“Ugh. Stop that.” Villanelle scolded him.   
  
She swung the bedroom door open and came face-to-face with Elena’s fist, poised to bang on it once more. Kenny was standing behind her, white as a sheet, and wielding a table lamp. Villanelle looked at him sceptically.  
  
“Eve is in the bathroom.” Villanelle told Elena. “She saw a spider. Take this.”  
  
With that, Villanelle shoved Martin into Elena’s arms and shut the door abruptly.   
  
Villanelle sighed and surveyed the room. She straightened out the sheets on the bed and returned her knife to its place in her pocket, then stretched herself out on the now-made bed, propped against the pillows with her legs crossed at the ankles.   
  
“Eve?” She called tentatively.   
  
“What?” Came the cross sounding reply.  
  
“I am sorry about the knife.” Villanelle said, searching for sincerity in her voice even as she rolled her eyes as she said it, safe in the knowledge that Eve couldn’t see her.  
  
“Why did you even have it on you?” Eve asked.  
  
Villanelle hesitated. She almost always had some form of defence on her. Today, she had the knife because of David, but even without that little project on her mind, she would probably be armed in one way or another.  
  
“Protection?” Villanelle reasoned.  
  
“From a pug?” Came Eve’s sarcastic response, and Villanelle could picture the dubious look on Eve’s face as she said it. Villanelle’s patience was waning.  
  
“I was not going to hurt you, Eve. You know that!” She bit out impatiently and then swiftly regretted her tone.   
  
There was no response from the bathroom. Villanelle waited a moment or two. Eve was being unreasonable. Surely she didn’t still think Villanelle might harm her like that. It would have been a very long game if Villanelle had just been biding her time waiting to reap her revenge. Plus, if that were the case, she wouldn’t strike while Eve was asleep. What a waste of a murder that would be. No, Eve was being ridiculous.   
  
“Who is more likely to stab who here, Eve, Hmm?” Villanelle called from her spot on the bed.   
  
Villanelle felt proud of that observation for all of a second, and then wished she had bitten her tongue. The stabbing was no man’s land. That conversation lived in the space between them, an unspoken neighbour of Bill’s. Neither Eve nor Villanelle ventured to visit those topics for fear of certain death for their relationship. Villanelle loathed the memory of that moment, like she loathed the lifelong mark on her stomach. Not because of the way it marred her perfect skin – though that is what she would sooner have people think. No, the mark was a reminder that the woman she loved the most was capable of hating her enough to drive a blade into her. It was a thought that jeopardised everything and it was better left buried.   
  
Villanelle heard the toilet flush and then the sink run. The bathroom door opened and Eve appeared, her face was ashen.  
  
“Nice.” She spat at Villanelle and then marched out into the hall, slamming the door behind her.   
  
Villanelle threw her head back and pulled Eve’s pillow over her face; she inhaled the familiar scent that usually filled her with contentment, and then screamed into the feathers. That could have gone better.


	7. What A Pickle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I thought this would be seven chapters long? What a fool I was, so naive.

It took Eve the length of the landing to realise that she may have overreacted slightly to Villanelle and the knife. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know that she was in a serious relationship with an ex-assassin. She was fully aware of the weaponry now dotted about her house, and often about Villanelle’s person as well. It had been waking to the image of Villanelle’s crazed features and the glint of a blade above her that had sent Eve into a panic. In fact, it was precisely because she was aware of who her partner was and what she was capable of, that Eve reacted so dramatically. She wasn’t fantastic at waking up at the best of times, and that had been… alarming. She knew though, she really did know, that Villanelle had no intention whatsoever of harming her like that. The flash of hurt on Villanelle’s face when Eve reacted in fear of her, was enough to remind Eve of Villanelle’s real feelings for her.

And, if that had been all that occurred, then Eve might have just come out of the bathroom, played it cool for a minute or two, asked Villanelle coldly about her drive with Dave the Dickhead, and then suggested Villanelle join her for the remainder of her nap. But no. Villanelle had slung the stabbing incident at her, and that, Eve couldn’t handle. The guilt over that day followed Eve like a malignant shadow, waiting until she was in a weakened state and then whispering in her ear, reminding her of what she’d done. It’s why she could never help herself when it came to that scar, her fingers searched for it time and time again, sought it out to offer it kindness, ask it for forgiveness. Villanelle couldn’t stand her touching it and Eve suspected that was because she too would rather avoid the reminder.

That is, until a couple of minutes ago. The blade, which Eve had used to commit the worst crime she could, was long gone, discarded and forgotten in an uninhabited Paris apartment. But the moment, as it turned out, was a weapon in itself and Villanelle had just turned it on Eve. That would leave its mark, not in a puckered knot of scar tissue, but in Eve’s mind. Villanelle had been brash and hurtful, which wasn’t entirely unheard of – she had a tendency towards impetuousness – but that had felt different. That was a deliberate shot to wound when Eve had been unarmed. A trigger-happy ex-assassin is nobody’s idea of a good time.

Eve was at the top of the stairs now and she considered her options. She could turn around, go back to Villanelle and talk this out. She could carry on downstairs and seek out Carolyn and her romance novel. Or…

Eve knocked on the door to her left.

“Yeah?” Came Elena’s voice from inside.

“It’s me,” Eve replied.

“Come in then!” Shouted Elena. Eve laughed under her breath and pushed open the door.

“Babe!” Elena let out, “Are you alright? That must have been a fucking massive spider, we thought Villanelle had finally tried to murder you.”

Elena was lying on her front across the bed, her phone in one hand, and her other hand running through Kenny’s hair as he sat on the floor in front of her with a games controller in his hand and a monitor on the desk opposite him. Elena dropped her phone and patted the bed beside her, encouraging Eve to take a seat.

“Kenny even unplugged a lamp, didn’t you babe?” Elena prompted, tugging his hair.

“Uh, yeah. I did.” Kenny nodded, looking at Eve suspiciously.

Eve laughed.

“And what were you planning to do with that?” Eve asked Kenny in amusement.

“Well, I thought I might… hit her with it, I guess.” He reasoned. Eve shook her head.

“If she really was trying to murder me, you’d have been better off just running. She’s too strong for either of you.” Eve said in a considered tone.

“Jesus, babe. That’s a bit dark.” Elena pointed out.

“Sorry,” Eve shrugged.

“You’re… alright though?” Kenny asked cautiously, looking closely at Eve as though he was trying to figure her out.

“Yeah.” Elena chimed in, “Where’s the spider? I hate spiders.”

So that’s what Villanelle had said when she opened the door. Eve had heard the shouted exchange from within the bathroom, but she hadn’t heard what explanation Villanelle had given when she opened the door.

“Oh, it’s gone. Oksana… squashed it with a shoe.” Eve replied, still feeling Kenny’s eyes on her.

“Ha!” Elena barked out, “That’s one benefit of banging a natural born killer, I guess.”

“What?” Eve gasped, unsettled to hear her relationship with Villanelle reduced to that, though she knew Elena was just being Elena.

“Spider control.” Elena replied casually.

“No, I mean, I’m not just… banging her.” Eve said, using Elena’s own phrase, though it didn’t fit well in her mouth. Besides, she wasn’t ‘banging’ Villanelle at all at the moment. When had three days started feeling like a long time to her too?

“Oh, no, babe. I know. I was only kidding.” Elena said apologetically. Eve nodded but didn’t say anything, and an unusual awkward silence emerged between them.

“What’s her game with David? That was fucking weird this morning. He was, like, flirting with her. In front of you. And she let him.” Elena finally said, breaking the silence.

Eve groaned and threw herself backward on the bed until she was lying on her back across it.

“I have no clue.” Eve rasped. “That woman is a mystery to me still sometimes.”

“I don’t trust her.” Kenny said quietly. Eve heard the sharp slapping noise as Elena evidently back-handed him lightly on the head in chastisement.

“Kenny!” Elena hissed. Kenny ignored her.

“I’m sorry Eve, but I don’t.” He said seriously.

“He doesn’t know her.” Elena let out.

“Do you?” Kenny asked, “Do any of us?”

Eve leant up on her elbows, lifting her back from the bed.

“Well, I’d like to think that I do.” Eve reasoned. “At least, I know enough. I know she won’t hurt any of us. Not really. She says dumb shit sometimes and she can be difficult but…” Eve trailed off.

She had been about to say that Villanelle loved her. It was true, and she knew it was, but that side of Villanelle, the vulnerable side, the loving and caring and gentle woman that Eve lived with… Neither Kenny nor Elena had met that woman. Eve wasn’t sure that they ever would.

Kenny remained steadfastly silent. Elena groaned.

“Babe, she said Villanelle isn’t going to hurt us. You can trust Eve, at least, can’t you?” Elena asked imploringly.

“I trust Eve.” Kenny relented.

“Right then!” Elena let out victoriously. She ruffled Kenny’s hair and he jerked his head away.

“But Villanelle can be a dick though, so just, you know, don’t piss her off, yeah?” Elena added thoughtfully.

“You were pissing her off this morning!” Kenny exclaimed, “On purpose!”

Eve heard footsteps on the landing and she knew whom they belonged to. They stopped outside the door.

“She was being a dick to Eve! Encouraging David’s gross flirting…” Elena defended her actions, “Anyway, I said I was sorry, babe!” she added, exasperated.

“It’s dangerous!” Kenny said, “You can’t be telling Eve she’s got a nice arse like that.”

Eve watched the door open a crack.

Elena hooted with laughter.

“Eve does have a nice arse, Kenny. You can admit it, I won’t be jealous.” Elena laughed.

“No!” Kenny nearly shouted.

“Wow, thanks Kenny,” Eve drawled from the bed. She knew what was about to happen but there was little she could do about it.

“No, I meant, that’s not the point.” Kenny hurried to explain, “You have a very nice arse, Eve.” He added apologetically.

The door swung open and Villanelle strode in.

“Christ! Fuck!” Kenny shrieked, his voice an octave higher than it normally was. He tried to shuffle backwards but was already up against the bed.

“You have lost your lamp?” Villanelle asked him, pouting pathetically.

Kenny opened his mouth and closed it a few times, Villanelle kept her gaze on him expectantly.

“OK…” she let out slowly when it became clear that Kenny was petrified to silence.

Villanelle turned her eyes to Elena and Eve on the bed and Eve saw the almost imperceptible flash nervousness in her glance as she caught Eve’s eye. She knew she had hurt Eve. She had to keep up appearances because of Kenny and Elena, but she was regretting her earlier words and she was scared that Eve was angry.

“What are we all doing in here? Besides talking about how nice Eve’s ass is? Villanelle enquired conversationally as she cast her eyes about the room in appraisal.

“Nothing!” Kenny squeaked. Elena rolled her eyes.

Villanelle hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, ‘nice’ is not a good enough word for Eve’s ass.” She mused. Eve huffed out an indignant breath, not feeling hugely comfortable with the topic of conversation.

“We were talking about whether or not you’re going to kill us all in our sleep.” Elena said bluntly.

Villanelle raised her eyebrows in interest, though now she was noticeably avoiding looking at Eve. Eve’s heart had dropped at those words. Elena made it sound as though Eve had come running along to her friends to say that she had woken to find Villanelle primed and ready to slash her to bits. Which now, with the sleep shaken from her mind, she knew was absurd.

“Oh?” Villanelle asked as though Elena had said they were discussing the weather forecast for that afternoon. But Eve could see the tension in her stance, she could practically see the taut muscles of Villanelle’s shoulders and back through her 100% lamb’s wool sweater.

“Yeah,” Elena went on conversationally, “Kenny thinks you’re a danger to us all, but Eve here assures us that you’re not.”

It was a challenge from Elena. She was daring Villanelle to get angry and prove Kenny right. But Villanelle relaxed instead and Eve knew why. Elena had just inadvertently put Villanelle’s mind at ease. Eve had told her friends, even after the knife incident, that Villanelle wasn’t a danger. It ruined her reputation, sure, but right now, she cared more that she had Eve’s faith in her.

Villanelle laughed.

“What a pickle.” She said evenly, digging out yet another phrase that made Eve wonder whether Villanelle had owned some out of date English phrasebook somewhere along the line.

“Carolyn said we have to go downstairs now for lunch.” Villanelle said, moving away from the previous conversation and consciously avoiding confirming or denying anyone’s suspicions about her potentially murderous intentions towards them.

“Baby?” Villanelle said gingerly and held a hand out for Eve, casting doleful eyes at her.

Eve let out a sigh and stood from the bed, she took Villanelle’s hand and led her out of the room.

“See you down there, guys.” Eve said over her shoulder.

“Bye guys,” Villanelle mimicked, “Don’t fall asleep.”

Eve jerked Villanelle’s hand and heard Elena mutter, “such a dick,” as she closed the door behind them.

 

Back out on the landing Eve turned to Villanelle.

“I’m sorry I screamed. I know you’re not going to hurt me.” Eve let out in a rush.

Villanelle pulled Eve into her arms and Eve could almost feel the relief rolling off of her. The idea that Eve might be physically scared of her was obviously one that didn’t sit comfortably with Villanelle.

“But,” Eve continued, her voice muffled in Villanelle’s sweater, “I wish you hadn’t said that about me stabbing you.”

Villanelle’s arms tightened around her.

“I know.” Villanelle said sombrely.

“I hate that it happened.” Eve said quietly.

“I know.” Villanelle repeated.

“I would _never_ do that now.” Eve asserted, rubbing her face against Villanelle’s chest. “I didn’t even know I could do that _then_.”

“I know that also.” Villanelle whispered. “I will not say it again.” She promised.

“Please don’t.” Eve replied.

Villanelle pushed her nose into Eve’s hair and nuzzled closer, sighing.

“So we can agree that we’re definitely not going to stab each other.” Eve said, fighting a laugh at the absurdity of having to confirm such a thing.

Villanelle nodded against Eve’s head.

“OK, darling.” Eve said, “Now, what the fuck are you up to with David? Do I need to be worried?”

Eve felt Villanelle tense fractionally. She had been mostly joking when she asked if she needed to worry, but that shift in Villanelle’s body set her on edge.

Behind them a door opened.

“Oh God.”

It was Kenny. Eve’s back was to him, but she could picture the look on his face at having interrupted what must seem like an intimate moment, with herself and Villanelle holding each other so closely and speaking in hushed voices.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He stammered.

Villanelle lifted her head to look at the intruder. He had thrown his hand over his eyes, as though he had walked in on Eve and Villanelle in the throes of naked passion as opposed to sharing a hug in the hallway. Villanelle stifled her laughter, wanting him to sweat it out a moment longer.

Elena appeared at Kenny’s side and looked at him in frustration.

“Oh for God’s sake, babe. They’re hardly getting nasty, are they?” She exclaimed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs, effectively removing the shield of his hand from his eyes too.

“Sorry,” he muttered a third time as Elena dragged him past them.

“He is odd.” Villanelle said quietly to Eve once Kenny and Elena had departed, “But he is right about your ass,” she added, lowering a hand to squeeze said body part.

Eve smiled and swatted Villanelle’s hand away before stepping out of Villanelle’s grasp.

“Come on, lunch time,” Eve said, heading for the stairs, “And you owe Martin an apology.” She added quirking an eyebrow at Villanelle.

Villanelle scoffed incredulously but followed Eve down the stairs.

 

In the kitchen, Carolyn was holding court and clearly mid-sentence when David spotted Eve and Villanelle entering the room.

“Eve!” He bellowed and Eve looked back at him with wide eyes, “That partner of yours is a real speed demon in the car, huh?” He went on.

“Oh.” Eve replied, “Yeah, she’s a very… confident driver.”

“Confident! I’ll say!” David laughed, “Makes me wonder what else she is so confident at. I reckon you’re one very lucky lady, Eve.” He said provocatively.

Elena’s jaw dropped and she glanced at Eve astounded but Eve had turned to Villanelle, waiting to see what she was going to do about that allusion to their sex life. There was the barest of twitches in Villanelle’s left eye and then she giggled. That sickening sound that set Eve’s teeth on edge.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Elena let out in frustration.

David looked at her in surprise.

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Carolyn intoned from the head of the table, where she was poised with a soup ladle and a large saucepan of, presumably, soup.

“Sorry Carolyn.” Elena replied, “Carry on, something about the farmer from next door?”

“Yes. Exactly.” Carolyn said, “He called earlier… Mick, I think his name is… Something like that anyway. He invited us to join him on a shoot tomorrow.”

“A shoot?” Villanelle queried in Sophie Wilson’s voice once more. She took a seat at the end of the table nearest the food.

“Pheasants, I believe. Or grouse, perhaps.” Carolyn mumbled, lifting the lid of saucepan, “Pass me the bowls, Kenny.” She said, holding out a hand. Kenny stood from his seat and passed a stack of bowls.

Villanelle reached across the table and snagged a slice of crusty bread, tearing a piece off with her teeth, and then gesturing with the remainder of the slice.

“With guns?” She asked, her voice muffled with bread. Villanelle was beginning to show beneath Sophie Wilson.

Carolyn glanced at her momentarily.

“Indeed.” She nodded.

“Sounds like a blast!” David exclaimed and then laughed in surprise, “A blast! With guns. I didn’t even mean to make that joke.” He smiled ruefully at himself.

Villanelle let out a loud burst of laughter.

“Good one, Dave.” She said through her laughs.

Elena and Eve exchanged perturbed looks.

“Well, count me in,” David said decisively. “That sounds like the quaint English thing to do.”

Carolyn nodded and then cast her eyes around the rest of the group questioningly.

“No way,” said Elena, “I’m not doing that. And Kenny only kills things on computer games, don’t you babe?”

Kenny nodded. Carolyn had abandoned her post with the soup ladle to return to her seat and Kenny was now dishing it out evenly and passing bowls around.

“I’m not going to have to go on my own, am I? I thought you Brits were all about the hunting and fishing.” David lamented.

“I expect _Sophie_ will go with you,” Elena mumbled, but David heard her.

“Soph? I don’t think she could hurt a fly.” David said, smiling at Villanelle warmly.

Kenny, in a moment of madness, let a bark of laughter fly free and then immediately looked horror stricken at what he had done. Villanelle aimed a sharp kick at him and he crumpled to one side as she made contact with his shin.

“Oksana!” Eve cried, reprimanding her instantly.

Everyone turned to Eve in alarm and it took her a moment to realise her mistake.

“Oksana?” David said curiously.

“It’s a family name, a nickname of sorts.” Villanelle swooped in with a response, surprising everyone further.

“It’s… Russian.” David said slowly.

Villanelle hummed and smiled at him.

“Well spotted,” she praised, and he smiled somewhat proudly, “It was my grandmother’s name actually. It’s what she wanted my parents to call me. They didn’t, but it became a nickname.”

Eve was still frozen in place, inwardly scalding herself for her stupid mistake, but still she wondered if that was true. Was Oksana named for her grandmother? Eve didn’t know. It was the kind of thing someone might know about their partner, but Eve had no idea.

“Oksana…” David repeated, “It means a gift from God.”

Villanelle’s left eye twitched once more.

“You speak Russian?” She asked David with mild interest.

“Hardly!” David laughed, “Though it might come in handy in DC these days.” He added wryly.

Carolyn let out a flutter of laughter, albeit briefly, and then returned to business.

“What shall I tell… Mick? Just one for the shoot?” Carolyn asked lightly, her eyes flicking to Villanelle briefly.

“I’m in.” Said Villanelle, “I’m sure I’ll be a terrible shot, but it sounds fun.” She smiled at David.

Eve fought the urge to roll her eyes, she didn’t need to bring any more attention to herself, or to Villanelle. She would have to thank her for saving that situation later. And perhaps ask her if that was true about her grandmother. It was a fitting name either way; Villanelle certainly did see herself as God’s gift a lot of the time. If David hadn’t been around then Eve would have made that observation aloud. It would have got more laughs than David’s shit gun joke too.

“Two it is then.” Carolyn nodded. “Perhaps you can bring us a bird for lunch tomorrow then, I do enjoy roast pheasant.”


	8. We Have Needs

The second evening at the country house found its occupants in the drawing room after dinner. There was a cheese board and biscuits on the small table and most of the party had a glass of red wine in hand, all except Villanelle who’d had her standard singular glass of champagne with everybody else pre-dinner and had now returned to sparkling water. The room was another odd mix of old furniture and new; tattered seating and a large state of the art television screen. One wall was covered in shelves, home to leather-bound books that had probably never been read and the large windows were swathed in heavy velvet drapes, drawn to keep out the worst of the cold from the old single-glazed windows.  
  
“So, it’s a film…” Elena said, “With… two words?”  
  
David, who was standing in the centre of the room whilst everyone else occupied sagging sofas and threadbare elderly armchairs, touched a forefinger to his nose and nodded. He held up a single finger.  
  
“First word,” Carolyn sighed, peering over her book, with glasses perched on the end of her nose. Martin was squashed into an armchair with her, resting his chin on her leg.  
  
David started gesturing wildly at his own face.  
  
“Eyes?” Kenny asked, “I?”  
  
David shook his head and continued the same manic gesturing as before.  
  
“Head?” Asked Elena, tilting her own as she considered David.  
  
“Dickhead?” Eve suggested under her breath, going unheard by everyone except Villanelle, whose arm she was tucked under where they were pressed together on one of the sofas. Eve felt Villanelle jolt against her as she spoke as though she had laughed silently at Eve’s guess.  
  
“Face!” Kenny shouted.  
  
David punched the air joyfully and nodded at Kenny, smiling widely. He held up two fingers.  
  
“Second word,” Carolyn sighed again, barely bothering to look up from her book this time.   
  
David stood in thought for a moment, pondering how to act out his second word. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion and began mimicking lifting his sweater up over his head, as though to remove it.   
  
“Jumper?” Elena asked, “Jump? Face Jump?” she said looking entirely unconvinced.   
  
David shook his head, and waved his arms around, before repeating his earlier action.   
  
“Up?” Eve suggested, “Face Up could be a film…”   
  
“OFF!” yelled Villanelle, leaping from her seat and dislodging Eve, gracelessly from her side “ _Face Off_! It is _Face Off_ , isn’t it? I got it!” The barest trace of her accent emerged in her excitement, and Eve glanced at her warningly as Carolyn looked up from behind her book.   
  
“Yes! And Soph has it!” David exclaimed, striding towards Villanelle and pulling her into a hug.   
  
Eve was shocked that Villanelle allowed it, but she did and Eve’s stomach tangled anxiously at the sight of Villanelle wrapped in David’s arms. Elena looked alarmed and Kenny glanced at Eve worriedly. Only Carolyn seemed uninterested in the situation.  
  
Villanelle extracted herself from David’s bear hug, but not earlier than was appropriate.  
  
“My turn!” She said excitedly, taking centre stage in the middle of the room as David returned to his chosen armchair.

 

Villanelle lifted one hand in an open fist in front of her eye and whirled the other in a circular motion.   
  
“It’s this for movie?” She asked.   
  
“Yes. But you can’t talk.” Elena said flatly.   
  
“I still can’t believe you’ve never played Charades,” David chuckled.   
  
“My family weren’t into games.” Villanelle shrugged and Eve had no doubt that _that_ was a truth from her past.  
  
“So, it’s a film,” Said Kenny quietly.  
  
Villanelle nodded and held up two fingers backwards at him. Kenny looked mildly offended.   
  
“Two words,” uttered Carolyn.   
  
“ _Love Actually_.” Eve said at once in an even tone.  
  
Villanelle let out an exaggerated sigh and slapped her arms by her side in defeat.  
  
“Eve!” She whined in frustration.  
  
“How did you get that?” David asked Eve in amazement.  
  
“It’s her favourite movie.” Eve replied with a shrug.   
  
“Shut up!” Elena hooted with laughter, “ _Love Actually_ is Sophie’s favourite film? That is hilarious.” Her laughter was almost uncontrollable and even Kenny was grinning despite himself.   
  
Villanelle looked quietly furious. She stomped back to the sofa and flung herself back into her seat, this time not touching Eve.  
  
“Sorry darling,” Eve murmured to Villanelle, but there was a smile on her face that she couldn’t quite quash and Villanelle was evidently not amused.  
  
“I don’t get it,” David said puzzled, “What’s so funny?” he looked around at everybody in confusion.   
  
“Eve,” Carolyn said, closing her book with a snap, “It’s your turn.”  
  
“Actually, I think I’m going to head up to bed, if you don’t mind.” Eve said, standing up and stretching her legs from where they had been tucked beneath her on the sofa.   
  
“You alright, babe?” Elena asked in concern. Villanelle shot her a glare, almost out of pure habit.   
  
“Just tired,” Eve smiled at Elena then turned to Villanelle, “Sophie, have another go, I won’t give it away this time.”   
  
Villanelle looked torn, usually there was no way she would stay down with everybody else if Eve was going up to bed. But Eve was clearly telling her to. And she did need to continue cosying up to David. A plan was beginning to form in her mind, and she needed to keep him on side.   
  
“OK,” Villanelle agreed, “I have a good one.”  
  
Eve felt a stab of hurt, despite suggesting Villanelle stay and carry on the game. Half of her was just testing Villanelle. If she had been asked even a day ago, Eve would imagine that Villanelle would be immediately by her side and heading up to bed whether she was tired or not, but apparently the lure of the game or possibly, worryingly, the lure of David was stronger.  
  
“Goodnight everybody.” Eve said as evenly as she could manage as she made her way to the door, she could feel Villanelle’s eyes on her as she left.  
  
  
  
Eve had a shower and got herself ready for bed, donning her pyjamas and settling beneath the duvet. Now that she was in bed she didn’t feel quite ready to drop off to sleep. And besides, it was strange lying there in the dim light without Villanelle by her side. Eve grabbed her phone from where it was charging on her nightstand and unplugged it. She looked up ‘Oksana’ on various name meanings websites. There was minor dispute but on the whole, David was pretty much right about its definition, most websites agreed that Oksana meant ‘Praise be to God’. Ugh. What a dick.   
  
Eve flung her phone to the other side of the bed, not bothering to put it back on charge. She shuffled down in the bed and lay on her back, she closed her eyes and attempted to soothe herself enough to go to sleep. Flashes of David’s impish smiles towards Villanelle materialised in her mind. The nonchalant way that Villanelle headed out the door and off in the car with him. The hug. That _hug_. Jesus, what the fuck was that? Was Villanelle so touch-starved that she would seek comfort in David’s arms? That didn’t seem likely to Eve if she really examined the facts, and yet… Why else would she do it? Even the hugs that Eve had seen her partner share with Konstantin, the closest thing she had to family, were not as easy as that embrace with David had seemed. Had something happened on their drive?  
  
Oh God. The way Villanelle had flinched earlier when Eve asked about the drive. Eve had forgotten the way that Villanelle had baulked; she had been distracted after Kenny’s interruption. Eve had thought Villanelle was nothing but dedicated to her, committed to the point of possession if she were being brutally honest with herself. But perhaps that only went one way. Perhaps in Villanelle’s mind, Eve was hers and nobody else’s, but Villanelle herself was free to do as she pleased. After all, she wasn’t used to being in a long-term relationship, to co-habiting with someone, to sharing her life honestly.   
  
What kind of relationship role models had Villanelle ever had? Her parents? Eve knew next to nothing about them, but even that was enough to suggest that theirs had hardly been a stable and loving relationship. Konstantin and his wife? Eve scoffed. Konstantin’s letters to Carolyn made it quite clear that commitment wasn’t his forte either. What about Anna and Max? Eve wasn’t even going to begin to dissect whatever went on there. No, it was pretty clear now she thought about it; Villanelle had no basis for what a healthy relationship should look like. What if Villanelle thought it was OK for her to get what she needed from David when Eve wasn’t providing it?  
  
Eve’s stomach was in knots and the knots were wrenching and tightening by the minute. It could be cramps, but Eve knew it was more than that. Her stomach was tensed with anxiety and unease. Her mind was busy; it was whirring, sending images her way that she would rather not see repeated, and jabbing at her harshly with hurtful thoughts. So she lay awake, her body exhausted and her mind on overdrive, her imaginings growing more and more outlandish.   
  
She heard footsteps on the stairs. Villanelle. And part of her was relieved. Villanelle was coming back to her. She was choosing to come up and join her in bed. But there was another part, a darker part, that said if that was Villanelle then she could turn around and go back downstairs, that she shouldn’t fucking bother trying to climb in bed with Eve.   
  
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and Eve held her breath. A door opened. Not Eve’s door though. And then there were voices before the door closed again.   
  
It wasn’t Villanelle. It was the others. Elena and Kenny had gone to bed. Eve’s stomach twisted.  
  
She lay for a few more minutes in silence until she heard footsteps again. Slower footsteps that travelled further along the hall to another door. But still not Eve’s door. Carolyn. It had to be.   
  
Eve felt sick now. She waited ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but no more footfalls fell. She threw the duvet off of herself and swung her legs out of bed so that she could stand. She grabbed a sweater from the battered chaise longue and wrestled herself into it. The minute it was over her head she knew it was one of Villanelle’s. It was too big for her and it smelt divine. It had to be Villanelle’s. The scent of it fuelled her hurt and confusion but she was on a mission now. She exited the room and walked, as quietly as possible along the landing and down the stairs. She was on autopilot, her sockless feet were carrying her to a destination, whether her brain thought it was a good idea or not. She reached the door to the drawing room and stopped out of sight, standing with her back against the wall next to the doorframe. There were voices coming from within. Well, one voice. David’s voice.  
  
“I know he gets a bad rap, but honestly, he’s a stand-up guy. I played golf with him once, you know? Before he got his current gig, of course.”

  
Eve grimaced as she realised who David was talking about. So David was a fan? As if Eve needed more reasons to dislike the smarmy bastard.   
  
“He’s a man in demand now!” David went on, “But he still makes a lot of time for golf.” He laughed, a deep throaty laugh. And then Eve heard something else, a sound that had been haunting her memories while she had lain awake upstairs.   
  
Villanelle giggled.  
  
“You must be pretty important to have spent time with him,” said Sophie Wilson’s voice, in a tone of poorly concealed awe.   
  
Eve felt herself go cold, as ice slithered through her veins. She needed to see them. It wouldn’t do her any good and she knew that. But she had to. She pushed herself off the wall and peered slowly around the doorframe.   
  
David was sitting in the armchair he had chosen earlier, swirling what looked like whisky in a short glass and leaning back comfortably, confidently, in his seat. And Villanelle… Villanelle was sitting on the sofa, now at the end nearest David. Her legs were tucked up beneath herself, her body turned towards his as she stared at him in rapt attention. By her side sat Martin, leaning snugly against her thigh. Villanelle had one elegant hand resting on the little dog she apparently loathed, and in the other hand was clasped a glass like David’s, nearly empty of its amber contents. Nothing about this image was right.  
  
Eve tried and failed to stifle her gasp, she thrust herself back against the wall and out of sight. Her breath caught in her lungs.  
  
  
In the drawing room both Martin and Villanelle turned sharply towards a noise near the doorway but there was nothing there and David hadn’t heard anything over the sound of his own voice.  
  
Martin was in his element. His favourite person in the house was finally showing him the consideration he deserved. Her long fingers were smoothing his fur and if he were a cat he would be positively purring. But he was pug, so he refrained.   
  
Villanelle was barely listening to David’s dull stories from DC. She nodded responsively and laughed when it sounded appropriate but she couldn’t focus. Her mind was brimming with fantasies of smashing the glass of vile liquid in her hand and ramming the jagged edges into his muscled chest. What she wouldn’t give to just end him now. She should be upstairs. She should be in bed with Eve, wrapped around the woman she loved, all warm and content. Sometimes her dedication to her job got in the way of what really mattered to her. But she had been given a task to do and she would complete it. She would enjoy it when it came to the fun bit of the job, but right now the lead up was getting in the way of what she wanted.   
  
Eve was probably asleep by now, Villanelle thought despondently. She knew Eve wasn’t going to let her do much to her while she was on her period, but Villanelle had hoped that they would maybe make out for a bit, perhaps fool around for a while before sleep. Both of those were phrases that Eve had teased Villanelle for using out loud, so Villanelle only used them in her head now. But whatever Eve wanted to call it, Villanelle needed it. She needed more than that for sure, but she would take whatever Eve would give her. She could wait for the rest, or do it herself.   
  
“It’s a hands on job, for sure,” David was saying. Villanelle had lost track of the topic but it didn’t seem to matter, “Hard to sustain a relationship with those unpredictable working hours, you know?”   
  
That sounded like a question to Villanelle and she rifled through her possible responses. He sounded perhaps… sad?  
  
“Of course,” Villanelle nodded sympathetically.   
  
“But men like me… we have needs.” David lamented, eying Villanelle almost hungrily.   
  
Villanelle recognised _that_ look easily enough and it nauseated her.  
  
“I know exactly what you mean.” Villanelle replied knowingly.   
  
She needed David to think he had a chance. To shoot him down now would push him away. It didn’t stop her skin crawling at the implication though.  
  
There was another sound from the doorway, Villanelle was sure of it. She glanced up just as the stupid dog did as well. Ugh, the disgusting animal was practically vibrating with joy as she stoked it, rubbing its furry self against her leg and doubtlessly shedding itchy hairs on her clothes. Sophie Wilson would hardly kick the little shit off the sofa though, would she?   
  
Villanelle kept her eyes on the doorway but no further sounds emanated. It must just be a creaky floorboard. Old houses had those.   
  
  
  
Eve felt sick as she stumbled away from the wall before she regained her senses and shuffled quietly back towards the stairs. There was no way to misinterpret what Villanelle had just said, was there? That sultry tone in her voice, Eve had heard that before. Her body wanted to react one way to it, whilst in her mind alarm bells were blaring deafeningly. None of this made sense. But she couldn’t stand there and listen to any more of it, she needed to get away, she needed to get back upstairs, to try and wrangle her thoughts, to decide on a plan of action.  
  
In the dark, Eve misjudged the first step of the stairs and tripped up it with a slap of her bare feet on the cold polished wood before grabbing the banister to right herself before making any further sounds.  
  
  
  
Villanelle’s ears picked up yet another noise in the house. Thank God Eve’s house wasn’t old like this one. She couldn’t stand these indiscriminate sounds; they set her on edge.  
  
David was still surveying her with that drooling gaze. It was hideous and she had had enough of it.   
  
“David, I better get to bed. Eve will be wondering where I am.” Villanelle said softly.  
  
“Are you sure, Sophie? I can’t tempt you to join me for another nightcap?” He asked suggestively.   
  
“Oh, it is very tempting indeed.” Said Villanelle with a sly smile, “But really, I must go up.”  
  
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where my room is.” David said with a smirk.  
  


Villanelle had no safe response to that, so she simply giggled through her gritted teeth and stood from the sofa.  
  
“Goodnight David, I am so looking forward to going shooting with you tomorrow.” Villanelle said, the most honest thing she had said to him all evening.  
  
David raised his glass to her with a smile.   
  
“Me too, Soph. Me too.” He said with a wink.  
  
Villanelle left the room and her shoulders immediately slumped, she wanted to shake herself like she had seen that horrible pug do just to get the feeling of David’s loaded looks off of her skin.   
  
Villanelle needed Eve. Only Eve would make her feel better right now. She sped up her journey up the stairs, ignoring the panting pug behind her, until she reached her bedroom door and slipped inside, shutting the door swiftly behind her. If Martin’s face hadn’t already been flat, then its unceremonious meeting with the wooden door would have done the trick. He sat back on his haunches and snorted.  
  
Inside the room, Villanelle found herself in almost exactly the same situation as she had earlier that day. The room was dark but she could make out Eve’s shape in their bed, curled in on herself and facing away from Villanelle.  
  
This time however, Villanelle wasn’t going to wake Eve with a knife in her hand, she was simply going to get in with her and gather her up in her arms like she had wanted to do hours ago.   
  
Villanelle stripped off her clothes in record time, not bothering with pyjamas, and slid beneath the duvet on her side of the bed.  
  
“Eve?” Villanelle whispered, edging towards the centre of the bed. There was no response, though Villanelle couldn’t hear Eve’s normal sleeping breathing pattern.  
  
“Baby? Are you awake?” Villanelle whispered slightly louder.  
  
Still nothing. Eve must be in a deep sleep, Villanelle decided, she wouldn’t try any harder to wake her. Villanelle slipped an arm around Eve’s waist and pulled her towards herself until Eve’s back was flush against Villanelle’s front, her knees tucked up beneath Eve’s. Eve’s feet made contact with Villanelle’s ankles and they felt like blocks of ice. In fact, all of Eve felt a little chilled. The bed wasn’t very warm at all.  
  
Villanelle furrowed her brow. That arsehole David made her stay downstairs listening to his shitty stories when she should have been here, keeping Eve warm. Villanelle rubbed her hands up and down Eve’s body wherever she could reach and she heard Eve let out what sounded like a sniff. She was definitely cold then.   
  
Villanelle didn’t feel good about this at all. Another nameless bad feeling that she couldn’t quite identify. Villanelle nestled her face into the back of Eve’s neck and placed a kiss on her skin there. Determined to make up for her absence by holding Eve as close as possible now and chasing that chill away.  
  
“Sorry baby,” Villanelle whispered, barely audible, and she heard the sleeping Eve sniff again. Villanelle hoped she wasn’t getting a cold.


	9. Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year people!

Birdsong filtered into the bedroom through the thin windowpanes and even within the house the morning air held a distinct chill.Villanelle felt consciousness creeping back in, and with it came a realisation and a fizz of excitement. Today was the day she would bring an end to David, today she could watch his pupils fix in death, today he would see that Sophie Wilson was just a façade and that Villanelle had been there, lurking just below the surface, watching and waiting. She may even get to witness that realisation wash across his features; she might see a leering smile become twisted in abject fear. Villanelle’s lips spread in a sleepy smile even before her eyes opened and she tightened her arms where they wrapped around Eve.  
  
Except it wasn’t Eve. Villanelle opened her eyes, the smile falling from her mouth. Her arms were wrapped around Eve’s pillow, her face pressed into it and inhaling only a lingering scent of the woman who had slept there. Villanelle tossed the pillow to the end of the bed and sat up, the duvet falling to her bare waist. She looked about the room but she was alone.   
  
“Eve?” Villanelle called. The bathroom door was shut. Eve must be in there.   
  
“You are in the bathroom?” Villanelle called a little louder.   
  
No sound came from the bathroom.  
  
“Eve!” Villanelle shouted, clambering, entirely nude, from the bed and reaching the bathroom in two purposeful strides. She flung the door open and stepped inside. She was alone there too.   
  
Villanelle returned to the bedroom and cast around for her phone or something that would tell her the time, her phone was nowhere to be seen. And now she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she even packed her phone. It might be on her nightstand back home at Eve’s house. She hadn’t worn her watch either. She only used it for work, and she hadn’t known she would be working this weekend.   
  
It must be late in the morning though, or Eve would still be in bed with her. Eve was not one to rise early unless completely necessary. Villanelle dressed hastily. She didn’t like the idea that Eve had left without waking her.   
  
It was the shoot today so Villanelle dressed accordingly in black, tight jeans that would fit neatly into her Hunter Wellington boots and an emerald green shirt, perhaps a little too fancy for tramping about the countryside, and not quite the right green to camouflage her, but it brought out her eyes and she knew that. She thrust her hair into a messy bun and snagged a pair of thick socks from Eve’s side of the drawer.  
  
She turned to make the bed, plumping the pillows and shaking out the duvet. As she wafted the duvet back into place, something hit the floor with a clunk. For a panicked moment Villanelle thought she had forgotten to retrieve her knife from the bed yesterday, but then remembered that she had slipped it back into her pocket when she had followed Eve along to Elena and Kenny’s room. Villanelle peered over the side of the bed. It was Eve’s phone. And it was unlike Eve to be without it. Villanelle snatched it up from the floor.  
  
1,2,3,4. Eve never had changed that passcode. Villanelle chuckled to herself. Silly baby. The screen lit up with a website, name-doctor.com, and on it was the origin and meaning of ‘Oksana’. Villanelle’s brows tightened. Why was Eve Googling this shit? Because of what David said? He wasn’t even right. Villanelle was always told that the name meant ‘Stranger’, something that her father had loved to remind her. Villanelle closed the website and, remembering why she wanted the phone in the first place, glanced at the time. 07.56, it wasn’t late after all. So where was Eve?  
  
Villanelle plugged Eve’s phone in to charge, placed it neatly on her nightstand and left the room. She padded swiftly along the hall, paused outside the door to Kenny and Elena’s room and listened closely. There was no noise at all from within, so she took off down the stairs and around the corner at a pace before skidding into the kitchen.   
  
Kenny looked up in alarm at Villanelle’s swift and silent arrival. He had a spoonful of Cheerios halfway to his opened mouth and the contents of the spoon slopped back into the bowl as his hand jerked with surprise.   
  
“Where is Eve?” Villanelle demanded, scanning the room and finding no sign of the other woman.   
  
“Good morning Kenny, good morning Elena, did you both sleep well?” Elena said sardonically from where she was waiting for the kettle to boil by the kitchen counter.   
  
Villanelle huffed impatiently.   
  
“Where. Is. Eve?” She asked again, punctuating her words with a threatening glare.  
  
“Chill out. She’s gone to the shop.” Elena exclaimed dismissively.  
  
“She’s gone to the shop.” Villanelle repeated thoughtfully. “But it’s early? Why didn’t she wake me?”  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe she thought you needed to sleep.” Elena shrugged and then added quietly, “You were up late after all.”   
  
Villanelle shot her a piercing look.   
  
“She went to get bread. For toast.” Kenny stammered from the table, his eyes widening when Villanelle rounded on him.   
  
“Where is the shop?” Villanelle asked.   
  
“It’s…. Um… a couple of miles away, in the village.” Kenny answered, “That way.” He said, pointing in a vague direction out of the kitchen windows.   
  
“She took my car then?” Villanelle asked.  
  
Elena laughed.  
  
“As if! Can you imagine?” She let out, still laughing. “She walked. It’s not far.”   
  
“What is wrong with my car?” Villanelle probed.  
  
“Villanelle. Babe. Sit down. Do you want a cup of tea?” Elena suggested, attempting to placate Villanelle who was practically pacing the kitchen now.   
  
“Don’t call me babe!” Villanelle spat. “And you should not call Eve babe either.”  
  
“OK!” Elena surrendered, holding up her hands in defeat. “I won’t call you babe. But I’ve called Eve babe for years. Niko never had a problem with it…”   
  
Villanelle’s face darkened menacingly but Elena held her gaze bravely.  
  
“Do you want a cup of tea, Villanelle?” Elena repeated purposefully keeping her eyes locked on Villanelle’s.   
  
Villanelle pulled out the chair next to Kenny and slumped into it dejectedly.   
  
“Yes.” She answered sullenly. Elena raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes please.” Villanelle added, still sullenly.   
  
“Right then.” Elena nodded, “Eve will be back soon anyway I’m sure. She just said she needed some fresh air, and she wanted toast.”  
  
“I would have driven her to the shop if she woke me.” Villanelle said, taking the box of Cheerios from in front of Kenny and studying the back of it.  
  
“Yeah, that would have defeated the whole ‘fresh air’ bit though, wouldn’t it?” Elena replied, her back to Villanelle as she poured tea into cups. Villanelle shrugged to herself.   
  
“It’s really not far.” Kenny said quietly. Villanelle turned to look at him for a moment and he gulped but kept his eyes on her, his jaw clenched in anxiety.  
  
“Good morning people!” Came David’s booming voice as he strode into the room.   
  
Kenny relaxed as Villanelle’s attention was diverted elsewhere.  
  
Elena raised a hand in half-hearted greeting at David but made no verbal response.  
  
“Ready for the shoot, Soph?” He asked, placing a hand on Villanelle’s shoulder and squeezing it.  
  
“Absolutely!” Villanelle enthused in Sophie Wilson’s voice. She had a sudden urge to turn her head and sink her teeth into the uninvited hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Tea, great. Thanks.” David said, releasing Villanelle and grabbing a cup from in front of Elena. “Mick, the farmer from next door, called Carolyn. He said we need to be there in half an hour.” He told Villanelle, seizing the cereal box from her and pouring himself a huge bowl full.   
  
“Oh, but Eve isn’t here.” Villanelle said in response.  
  
“Eve’s not coming, is she?” David asked, “Has she changed her mind?”

“No, no.” Villanelle replied, “But… it’s just I haven’t seen her yet today.” She said quietly.   
  
David laughed his unnecessarily loud laugh.  
  
“Surely you can manage a morning without her?” He said teasingly. “Unless I was right about those mommy issues...” He added with a smirk and pointed an accusing finger at her. A finger that Villanelle longed to snap at the knuckle.  
  
Kenny choked on a cheerio and Elena whipped around, her face contorted with disgust at David’s words. Villanelle slapped a hand on Kenny’s back repeatedly until he stopped coughing.  
  
“Th-thanks.” He gasped.  
  
“No problem.” Villanelle smiled at him sweetly. “So, half an hour at the farm then?” Villanelle said to David, choosing to ignore his suggestion and save her rage at its insinuation for later that morning.  
  
David nodded, slurping his tea.  
  
“Lovely. I’ll just go and get ready.” Villanelle raised herself from the table and left the room.   
  
She stalked back up to the bedroom. It had been a long time since she had felt burning fury like this. It made her feel alive. But she couldn’t have stayed in the kitchen with David. That comment, that _stupid fucking_ comment. He was so wrong. It was so rude to Eve. Villanelle would relish killing this one, and her chance was so close she could almost taste the metallic tang of it. She had to calm down first though. She would leave a note for Eve to find when she returned from the shop. That would quiet her mind down. Or at least in the absence of Eve herself, the note would have to do.  
  
Villanelle slipped into the bedroom and rooted around in what was left in Eve’s suitcase. There was bound to be a notebook in there and a pen somewhere, Eve always had a pen to hand. Got it.  
  
 _Eve,_  
  
I’ve gone shooting.

 Villanelle smirked to herself as she thought about what it was she’d be shooting. What else should she write? Villanelle was aware of an uncomfortable distance between the two of them, beyond that of the couple of miles between the house and the shop. It was not normal that Eve had gone out without telling her, without taking her phone. She wanted to make sure Eve knew she was loved.   
  
  
_I love you, baby._

_Oksana X_

That was good, Villanelle decided. And then put her pen to the paper once more.   
  
  
_(It means Stranger)_

Eve would know what that meant. She would know that Villanelle was referring to her name and telling Eve that David had been wrong about its meaning. Eve would enjoy knowing that.   
  
Villanelle slid the note under Eve’s phone where she was sure to find it when she returned from the shop and came upstairs to look for Villanelle. Now it was time to head out for the shoot. Villanelle felt exhilarated as she pulled her Barber jacket from the wardrobe and left the room.  
  
  
David was waiting in the entrance hall, next to the Christmas tree. He was wearing pale blue jeans and a white shirt, a brown belt and black shoes. Villanelle withheld her scoff. What kind of an outfit was that for shooting? What kind of outfit was that at all?  
  
“All set?” David asked as he saw her.  
  
“Yep!” Villanelle said, “Let’s go.”   
  
She reached the bottom of the stairs and he placed a guiding arm around her waist as though she may struggle to find the front door by her own volition.   
  
“Have a super time,” said Carolyn’s voice, drifting in from the door to the drawing room.   
  
“Sure will,” David smiled at her.  
  
“See you later, Sophie.” Carolyn said making fleeting yet purposeful eye contact with Villanelle who smiled and nodded at her.   
  
Martin made a bid for freedom from within the drawing room, attempting to reach Villanelle across the hall but Carolyn scooped him up before he got past her and clamped him under her arm, where he proceeded to squirm uselessly.   
  
David and Villanelle went out into the cold damp air outside and closed the heavy front door behind them. Carolyn sighed.  
  
“Utterly clueless,” she lamented to Martin shaking her head, “Extraordinary.”  
  
  
  
Eve trudged along the country lane that Kenny had directed her to. ‘A couple of miles’ hadn’t sounded all that far when she left the house. But now, en route home from the shop, with a brown paper bagged loaf of bread, trainers caked in mud and a dull ache low in her stomach, ‘a couple of miles’ felt like a marathon. And she still hadn’t decided what to do. Her insides churned as she replayed the snippets of conversation she heard between David and Villanelle the night before. She had been paralysed into inaction by the time she returned to her bedroom, she had left herself no choice but to spend the night in the arms of the woman who was causing her distress.  
  
 _“Sorry baby.”_  
  
Those two little words served as markers in her life now. And what had Villanelle meant by them last night when she had pressed them with a kiss into the back of Eve’s neck? Sorry for what she was doing with David. That was almost a certainty in Eve’s mind. Those words had dripped down her spine and settled as a glutinous mass in her belly, heavy and uncomfortable.  
  
Eve had never felt trapped in Villanelle’s arms before, not until she awoke earlier that morning. Her sleep had been fitful and unexpected when it came, but it must have come because she woke still caught in those smooth strong arms that usually brought feelings of comfort and safety. This morning they felt like a snare, cutting off her blood supply and threatening to break her skin. Eve had had to get out, to struggle out of those arms and away from those dexterous fingers, clinging to her clothing as though to keep Eve from escaping. She needed to get out of that bed, out of that room and away from that house.  
  
The kitchen was supposed to be empty when Eve had silently dressed and made her way downstairs, yet Elena and Kenny had beaten her to it and were rummaging through the cupboards in search of breakfast. Eve did want to talk to Elena, but not yet, she needed to clear her mind first, get her thoughts in order and formulate a plan. When Kenny had lamented the lack of bread for Marmite toast, Eve had seen her chance and offered to venture to the shop, citing a similar desperate need for toast. She wasn’t hungry really though. She felt sick.  
  
It had been a good idea to start with, but now she was simply colder and more miserable than before, with still no seeds of a plan other than packing her bag and heading for home. Somehow.   
  
  
  
Mick, the farmer next door, was everything David hoped an English farmer would be: weatherworn and rough with a thick, gravelled accent that he couldn’t place but sounded decidedly… rural. Yet the rest of the shooting party, the cluster of gentlemen that he and Sophie had passed in the farmyard on their way into the stone boot room, were quite the opposite. This was clearly a countryside money-making endeavour, put on for the city blow-ins who wanted a taste of the real thing, and bragging rights over the death of the Christmas pheasant.  
  
“You done shootin’ before?” Mick grunted, eyeing David’s black leather shoes sceptically.   
  
“Sure, once or twice.” David said proudly.  
  
“I’ve never even held a gun.” Villanelle uttered, smiling apologetically at Mick.   
  
Mick grunted again and nodded, turning to a mostly empty rack of shotguns on the wall behind him. There were two left.  
  
“This ‘un is a bit off, so you better ‘ave it. Skew left.” Mick said, unhinging the barrel from the handle and passing the shotgun to David, who rested it over his arm as he had seen the men outside doing.  
  
“Skew left. Aye-aye, sir.” David said with a laugh and a nod.   
  
Mick stared at him dubiously and said nothing before turning back to retrieve the final shotgun from the rack.   
  
“Here you go, sweet’eart. This ‘un is lighter.” He passed the gun to Villanelle, who took hold of it tentatively as though he had handed her a rattlesnake.  
  
“Oh, perfect. Thank-you,” she said nervously.  
  
David let out a crack of laughter, pressed a flat hand to Villanelle’s upper back and rubbed it in circles.  
  
“Don’t you worry, Soph, I’ll take care of you.” He said reassuringly.  
  
Mick eyed David once more and then showed him how to load his gun.  
  
Villanelle cast her eyes about the room they were in, this could be perfect if Mick left them here for just a short amount of time. They were out of sight of the rest of the shooting party. The room was solid, with thick stone walls and a low, raftered ceiling. It was littered with typical farmyard accoutrements, a couple of dusty hay bales to the side, rows of horses’ tack, vast containers of animal feed and old metal pails of varying sizes hanging from hooks in the ceiling. It would be all too easy for a little accident to occur in here, especially when poor Sophie Wilson has no idea how to handle a gun.  
  
“Sophie! You weren’t paying attention.” David chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “I’ll show her how it’s done, Mick,” he added confidently, clapping a hand to Mick’s shoulder.  
  
Mick stepped away and nodded.  
  
“I’ll get the dogs ready.” Mick grunted, stepping towards the open doorway, then he stopped and looked at David’s shoes again. “Put on them boots,” he added, nodding to a pair of mud-encrusted wellingtons leaning against a hay bale.   
  
“Will do,” David smiled.  
  
Villanelle only had to glance at the boots to know they would be far too big for David.  
  
“Ten minutes,” Mick grumbled as he left.  
  
Ten minutes. That was enough time for Villanelle.   
  
David crossed, the room. His shotgun was now loaded but still disengaged and slung over the crook of his arm. He took Villanelle’s own gun from her and set about loading it.  
  
“Easier if I just do it, I think.” he said somewhat patronisingly.  
  
Villanelle could do the job with her eyes closed and in half the time, but she let him take charge and glanced about the room once more, assessing her options.  
  
“There you go. Now, no shooting until we’re outside!” He joked, handing her back the gun.  
  
Villanelle laughed with him as he crossed to the hay bale and examined the wellingtons Mick had assigned him.   
  
“You know, it really is a pleasure to have gotten to know you over these past two days, Soph.” David said as he struggled to take off his shoes while keeping his shotgun in place over his arm.  
  
Villanelle crossed to the small window and evaluated which part of the room could be seen from outside.  
  
“I feel the same way,” Villanelle mused with her back to David, her fingers itching to engage her shotgun and do her job. “A real pleasure.”   
  
“No, seriously,” David said, his feet now encased in the almost frozen rubber of the wellingtons.   
  
Villanelle heard the click of David’s shotgun engaging and turned to see him examining it closely.  
  
“It doesn’t look off to me,” He said sceptically.   
  
In a matter of minutes, Villanelle would blow that stupid look right off his face. A shiver of anticipation ran through her.  
  
“I’m sure you know more about it than that farmer.” Villanelle said with a laugh, bolstering David’s already inflated confidence in himself was far too easy.   
  
“Without a doubt.” David agreed with a smirk, bringing the shotgun to his shoulder and mimicking firing it into the hay bale. Villanelle rolled her eyes.  
  
“But, as I was saying,” He went on, turning to face Villanelle with his shotgun still in a firing position, “It’s been so good to spend this time with you… Villanelle.”  
  



	10. How Should I Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair Warning: It gets a bit gross for a minute here, guys. I don't think it's bad. But just a little heads up, there's blood. 
> 
> Also: Elena is British. When she says 'twat' it rhymes with 'cat' not 'rot'. That is how the word is meant to be pronounced. Do not fight me on this.

Eve took a long sip of her tea and felt it thaw her body on the way down. She needed this after that frigid trek back from the village shop. She settled herself further into the sofa and pulled her feet up beneath her, tucking them under her legs to warm her toes.  
  
“What do you mean you want to go home?” Elena asked, looking at Eve in confusion from a sagging armchair in the drawing room. “You’re leaving tomorrow anyway. You’re lucky you don’t have to stay for actual Christmas.” She grumbled.  
  
“I know. I just…” Eve started, trying to find a way to explain how she was feeling to Elena without sounding like a paranoid lunatic. She was _feeling_ a bit like a paranoid lunatic if she was perfectly honest, it was becoming a struggle not to sound like one too.  
  
“Is this because of David?” Elena enquired pointedly.  
  
“Well, David _and_ Oksana.” Eve reasoned, keeping her gaze fixed on her teacup and the wisps of steam emanating from it.  
  
“Oh, babe.” Elena let out sympathetically. “It is fucking weird, I’ll give you that. And he is definitely a twat. But she loves you, like, a scary amount.”  
  
Eve gave a hollow laugh. Oksana had said as much in that bizarre note she had left upstairs beneath Eve’s phone. What the fuck was she talking about? Something about a stranger. It made no sense to Eve.  
  
“So she says.” Eve replied after a pause, “But I heard them last night.” She added quietly.  
  
“You _heard_ them?” Elena demanded, her voice rising angrily, “What? Heard them banging?”  
  
“No!” Eve blurted out, finally glancing up at Elena. “No. I heard them talking.”  
  
“Just talking?” Elena queried hesitantly.  
  
“Well yes, but it was… She sounded… there’s something going on. I just know it, OK?” Eve insisted.  
  
“OK. OK.” Elena relented. “I see what you mean. When he hugged her last night, I thought she might castrate him then and there on the rug.” Elena considered the situation for a moment, “But it does seem quite one-sided. She’s not _flirting_ with him, she’s just not stopping him either...”  
  
Eve sighed and looked away. Elena didn’t understand. Villanelle had let him touch her, without permission. She had been drinking whisky with him. She had been giggling. None of it was right. Eve couldn’t help wondering if it would be happening if herself and Villanelle had been having sex over the past four days.  
  
“Are you sure it’s real?” Elena continued, “Are you sure she’s not just fucking with him? She is a dick like that sometimes.”  
  
“She is, I know. But it just feels… wrong.” Eve mumbled.  
  
She thought Elena would be all over this with her. She never expected her friend to side with Oksana; the same Oksana who was always snapping and growling at her like an overgrown guard dog. Elena had been scared of Villanelle to begin with. She didn’t seem to be anymore.  
  
Elena looked at Eve sympathetically then stood from her armchair and joined Eve on the sofa, pulling the smaller woman into her arms, carefully so as not to spill her tea.  
  
“You should have seen her this morning, when you had gone to the shop,” Elena said quietly, “She was frantic. She didn’t want to go to the shoot until she’d seen you.”  
  
Eve’s stomach untwisted incrementally. She could imagine Villanelle like that.  
  
“Yeah?” Eve asked, her voice cracking.  
  
“Yeah,” Elena laughed, “She only went because that dickhead David made some jibe about ‘Mommy issues’.” She said the final two words in a bad appropriation of David’s American accent. Eve looked up at her and pulled a face.  
  
“Ew. That’s not… that isn’t what it is.” Eve assured her, looking sickened at the thought.  
  
“I know that, babe. But it annoyed Villanelle enough to get her moving. I don’t think she would have gone until you got back otherwise.” Elena explained, and then paused before adding, “She also told me not to call her babe. Or you for that matter.”  
  
Eve let out a shaky laugh at that.  
  
“You called Villanelle ‘babe’?” She asked incredulously.  
  
“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out!” Elena exclaimed.  
  
“I’m surprised you lived to tell the tale.” Eve said with the smallest of smiles.  
  
“Well, she was distracted. Otherwise she probably would have caved my head in with a coffee mug.” Elena reasoned and Eve chuckled. The two were silent for a moment until Elena spoke again.  
  
“Don’t go home, babe.” She said softly, “Wait and talk to her. I’m sure it’s not what you think.”  
  
The door to the drawing room opened and Martin trotted in, followed by Carolyn, her phone clasped in her hand.  
  
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.” Carolyn said conversationally. “At the shoot.”  
  
  
  
Earlier that morning, Villanelle had had a split second to register what David had said and engage her shotgun, but Villanelle was good with split seconds. Her gun was on her shoulder in a flash and aimed between David’s eyes, as she mirrored his own stance.  
  
Her body was buzzing, primed and taut, ready to pull the trigger at any moment.  
  
“Who are you?” She hissed, keeping her eyes and the barrel of her gun trained on the man opposite her.  
  
“Well, I am not David, the American meddler.” Came the response. Gone was the velvety, American accent and in its stead was dense Russian.  
  
Villanelle felt a rare bolt of fear pass through her. She had half-thought these days were gone. She hadn’t minded that thought.  
  
“You are an asset of the Twelve.” Villanelle said in realisation, her own accent back in place now. “Why weren’t you disposed of?”  
  
‘David’ laughed, his breath bursting forth in a cloud of steam against the frozen air.  
  
“No.  _You_ were an asset of the Twelve. I _am_ the Twelve.” He said evenly, “But I have the same question for you. Why weren’t you disposed of?”  
  
“The Twelve doesn’t exist anymore.” Villanelle replied, ignoring his question. She was biding her time, digging for information before she would compress her finger on the trigger and end this charade.  
  
“True. I am all that remains.” He agreed, tilting his head in acceptance of the fact. “But the others left bit of mess behind it seems.” He said, eyeing Villanelle up and down with a look of disgust.  
  
Well, that was rude. Villanelle was going to enjoy killing this man even more now. How could anyone describe her as a mess? She was beautiful.  
  
“I don’t like mess.” He said through gritted teeth.  
  
Villanelle snarled, pulled the trigger of her shotgun and… nothing happened. A pitiful click.  
  
‘David’ laughed again, cold and empty.  
  
“Who gives a loaded gun to an assassin?” He asked rhetorically, his face twisted in grim humour.  
  
So he hadn’t loaded it for her. Of course he hadn’t. Villanelle should have paid more attention. Her knife was in her pocket, if she could distract him long enough, she might have a chance here but it was a slim one.  
  
“Consider this your severance package from the last of The Twelve.” He muttered coolly and pulled his own trigger without a second thought, without a moment’s hesitation.  
  
A thundering crack filled the room, splitting the air and reverberating from the solid stone walls, ringing in Villanelle’s ears. It seemed as though time slowed and stretched as Villanelle’s heart turned to stone. She scrunched her eyes shut. She had danced with death before, had faced it with arrogance and ease, but this time was different. This time she had a life to lose.  
  
The crack was followed by a sharp metallic ping and time sped up once more as the shotgun bullet missed its intended target but found another. It ricocheted off a grey metal milk pail hanging from the low ceiling to the right of Villanelle’s head and reversed its trajectory before burying itself deep in the interloper’s skull.  
  
His body hit the floor with a muffled thump, the shotgun clattering to the ground beside his head.  
  
“Ha!” Villanelle let out joyously, smiling wildly.  
  
She stepped across David’s legs, noting the oversized boots that had been blown from his feet as he had dropped suddenly. She hovered over his waist, not lowering herself far enough to straddle him, but getting in sufficiently close to examine his face. He was still breathing, though he could hardly be cognitive with a bullet lodged in his brain matter. Blood was bubbling darkly from the bullet hole, cascading into his open un-seeing eye and gradually pooling there in the socket until his eyeball was submerged in it.  
  
Villanelle lowered her face to his and breathed him in, the copper-y smell of the blood feeding her senses. Her eyes fluttered closed and she released a shaky breath before opening them again.  
  
“That was _my_ job.” She whispered and then gave him an exaggerated pout.  
  
She could leave him to die, it would only take a matter of minutes, but she wanted the pleasure of doing it herself. He had stolen her thunder and that was rude. Villanelle brought a hand to his face and covered his mouth with it, blocking his nostrils with the top of her forefinger and pressing down. She felt the weakest of suction against her palm as his body made a bid for one more breath. She stared into the eye that she could still see and could swear that it widened momentarily before the pupil fixed in finality, staring back at her and seeing nothing.  
  
Villanelle nodded in satisfaction and got to her feet. She staggered into the yard where the assembled shooting party was already advancing swiftly to the boot room. She clutched the outside walls of the room, doubled at the waist and gasping for breath.  
  
“He’s dead!” She shrieked uncontrollably, Sophie Wilson’s accent once again in place. “Oh God. I think he’s dead. Call an ambulance! Do something!”  
  
She crumpled to the floor and sobbed tearless sobs as the men in their tweeds swarmed into the room behind her. Someone crouched beside her and an arm was placed about her. She was told to take deep breaths, asked what had happened, promised that everything would be alright. Her hands covered her face to hide her smile.  
  
  
  
“What do you mean, an accident?” Elena asked Carolyn, sitting up straight on the sofa and throwing a worried glance at Eve.  
  
Beside her, Eve had gone deathly pale, the remaining tea in her cup trembling along with her hand. She had a horrible feeling about this.  
  
“From what Mick said on the phone, it seems one of the shotguns misfired. Though he didn’t make much sense. Anyway, the police are there now.” Carolyn muttered.  
  
“The police?” Elena demanded, “Not an ambulance?”  
  
“I’m afraid it was rather too late for that.” Carolyn sighed, raising her hand and studying her nails. “But I daresay one will be by to pick up the body.”  
  
Eve felt faint all of a sudden, her head was light and sound didn’t seem to be entering her ears as it normally did, her hearing was almost muffled.

“Oksana?” Eve whispered, staring at Carolyn urgently, “Is she—”  
  
The door swung open once more and Villanelle strode in. Behind her Kenny trailed in looking baffled at all the commotion.  
  
“David is dead.” Villanelle said simply and her eyes immediately alighted on Eve, a relieved smile taking over her features, “Oh, baby you’re back. That’s good.”  
  
Eve knocked her tea cup to the ground and was in Villanelle’s arms within moments, the force of her sudden embrace causing Villanelle to stumble back slightly before regaining her balance. Eve found tears springing to her eyes, and she tucked her face into Villanelle’s chest, her forehead knocking against Villanelle’s collarbone. Villanelle wrapped her arms tightly around Eve, feeling the other woman shake against her. She shot a confused look at Elena over Eve’s head.  
  
“I missed you too?” Villanelle said slowly, trying to gage what was going on with Eve.  
  
“I thought something had happened to you.” Eve sobbed into Villanelle’s chest. Villanelle circled a soothing hand on Eve’s back slowly.  
  
“Baby, I am fine.” Villanelle reassured, feeling Eve nod her head in response.  
  
“Uh… But David’s dead?” Elena said bluntly with an accusing look at Villanelle.  
  
“I didn’t do it!” Villanelle said indignantly, “He shot himself. The fool.” She added.

“He tried to shoot me, but he should have skewed left.” Villanelle went on casually, nodding knowingly with pursed lips.  
  
Eve pulled back and stared at Villanelle.  
  
“I’m sorry? He tried to shoot you?” She stammered.  
  
Villanelle shrugged.  
  
“I was going to shoot him but he got there first.” Villanelle said, “Missed me though.” She added smugly.  
  
“What?” Eve gasped.  
  
Carolyn shifted uncomfortably and Kenny’s eyes found her across the room, narrowing as he watched her.  
  
“Mick told him to skew left with that gun. He should have listened.” Villanelle bent down and rested her chin on Eve’s shoulder as she spoke.  
  
Eve recoiled out of Villanelle’s arms.  
  
“If he had listened, you would be dead!” She shouted, giving Villanelle a firm shove to her shoulders and catching her off guard. Villanelle lurched backwards and Eve paced towards her.  
  
“I’m not dead though, baby. It is fine!” Villanelle insisted, smiling at Eve comfortingly.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Eve shoved her again, harder than the first time. Villanelle was ready now though, and she swayed on the spot but didn’t stumble.  
  
“Was this your fucking plan all along?” Eve yelled, shoving Villanelle a third time. She swayed again but didn’t retaliate though the smile fell from her lips.  
  
“OK,” Villanelle dragged it out, “You can hurt me,” she acquiesced, “But you don’t want to really.”  
  
Eve growled and prepared to shove Villanelle once more, but felt herself stopped before she had a chance to as Elena took a hold of her upper arm and pulled her back. Eve didn’t take her eyes from Villanelle, they were wide and furious and she was practically panting.  
  
“Let me get this straight,” Elena said calmly, “Villanelle, you were planning to kill David?”  
  
“Yes.” Villanelle agreed, answering Elena but eyeing Eve cautiously.  
  
“And that was why you were letting him be a fucking creep all weekend?” Elena questioned.  
  
“Ugh. Yes.” Villanelle repeated, rolling her eyes.  
  
Eve made to lunge again, but Elena kept a tight grip on her.  
  
“And, uh… _why_ were you planning to kill him?” Elena asked.  
  
“She told me to.” Villanelle replied simply, turning and pointing at Carolyn.  
  
Kenny let out a hollow laugh and shook his head, muttering something under his breath that nobody in the room quite heard.  
  
Eve straightened up and her eyes finally left Villanelle to land on Carolyn instead.  
  
“Yes. Well.” Carolyn started, “I don’t know why you’re all looking at me like that. It is her job.”  
  
“Not anymore!” Eve let out.  
  
This time it was Villanelle who shifted awkwardly.  
  
“Actually, it was agreed when she signed the contracts.” Carolyn said lightly, “We all thought it might be good for her to carry out the occasional…” She cleared her throat, “spot of extra work.”  
  
Eve’s eyes were back on Villanelle, now more wounded than livid. Villanelle bowed her head and looked back at Eve through her eyelashes pitifully. She knew she was in trouble now. Now it was all spelled out, it did seem that the whole ‘extra work’ situation was probably one of those things that she was meant to share with Eve, even if Carolyn told her not to. And actually, now that she thought about it, she had meant to bring it up when Konstantin first mentioned it, but she had forgotten.  
  
“Is everything squared away next door?” Carolyn asked lightly.  
  
“A very fat policeman took my statement and said I’d had a ‘horrible shock,’” Villanelle answered with a pouted and nodded pitifully, “Then he drove me back here.” She finished with a shrug.  
  
Carolyn nodded, seemingly satisfied with that procedure.  
  
“And why would David want to kill Villanelle?” Kenny asked pointedly, addressing his mother and finally breaking his silence.  
  
Carolyn remained silent but peered at Villanelle as though prompting her.  
  
“He was one of the Twelve.” Villanelle clarified.  
  
“But he was American,” Kenny pointed out.  
  
“It was an act,” Villanelle said in a mocking tone, as if it should be obvious.  
  
Kenny jerked his head in a sort of awkward nod.  
  
“So David, or whatever his real name was, a member of the Twelve, _just happened_ to know that you would be here this weekend? And _just happened_ to get himself invited to stay?” Kenny summarised.  
  
“How should I know how? I don’t know how he found me.” Villanelle replied petulantly.  
  
“Yes. That’s… sort of my point.” Kenny stuttered, looking back at his mother once more.  
  
“Kenny, for goodness sake!” said Carolyn. “Are you suggesting I orchestrated this?”  
  
“Did you?” Elena asked intrigued and with a note of awe in her voice that made Kenny glance at her in astonishment. Elena shrugged at him.  
  
“Preposterous. Of course not.” Carolyn said dismissively. “Why on earth would I want Villanelle dead? She’s very useful to me and I only just hired her. If whatever his name is – or was, I suppose –   _was_ a member of the Twelve, then he would have had access to all sorts of information. Somehow he knew Villanelle was still alive and traced her by himself.”  
  
“Except he didn’t trace Villanelle, he traced Sophie Wilson.” Elena pointed out. “And _you_ invited him here for the weekend.”  
  
“I thought he was one of us. I was informed that he was getting himself too closely involved in certain matters in Washington and that it would be best if he…” Carolyn trailed off, “Oh, this is ridiculous. The man is dead anyway.” She said indifferently. “You think he was working alone?” She asked, addressing Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle nodded, but she wasn’t looking at Carolyn, she was watching Eve.  
  
Eve’s expression was completely blank. Her eyes were glazed and staring past them all, focused on nothing in particular on the back wall of the drawing room.  
  
“Baby?” Villanelle said softly, and prompting Elena to turn her attention to Eve as well.  
  
Eve’s complexion was pallid, drained of all colour.  
  
“You alright, babe?” Elena asked, squeezing Eve’s arm where it remained in her grip.  
  
Eve’s hearing was muffled again, it had an underwater quality to it. She heard both questions directed at her, but couldn’t bring herself to respond. She took a step forwards instead, towards the door.  
  
“I’ve got to go,” Eve muttered expressionless.  
  
“OK,” Villanelle said at once, “We can go.”  
  
“No,” Eve said with slightly more power behind her words, but she remained distant. Her eyes flitted to Villanelle briefly and then away again, “I’ve got to get out of here. This is insane.”  
  
Eve walked unsteadily past Villanelle and to the door. Villanelle reached out for Eve’s arm as she passed.  
  
“I will come with you.”  
  
Eve shook off Villanelle’s hand and continued to the door.  
  
“Eve!” Villanelle let out, puzzled.  
  
“Give her a minute, mate.” Elena said gently. Villanelle looked at Elena desperately as the door closed behind Eve.  
  
There was silence in the room for a moment.  
  
“Well, that was quite the morning.” Carolyn said at last, “Kenny, why don’t you put the kettle on, hmm?”  



	11. Don't Shout At Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the rollercoaster of Eve's emotions!

Eve’s subconscious had taken over on her walk from the drawing room to her bedroom. She had no memory of making the short journey and now was sitting on the bed staring into her opened suitcase that at some point she must have lifted onto the bed beside her.  
  
There was far too much to process. Villanelle could very easily have died this morning. Eve could have lost her. Villanelle hadn’t been encouraging David’s advances because she wanted to fuck him, but because she wanted to kill him. Eve could have lost her. Villanelle was still being paid to kill. Eve could have lost her. And Carolyn… Well. What the fuck was going on there?  
  
It was as though there were too many different and equally potent emotions swirling around in Eve, her body had shut down in a last ditch attempt to cope with them. All that was left was the vague notion that she should pack her belongings into her suitcase and head back to London and back to normality. Normality was long gone though. Normality had left the building the morning she had been called into an unexpected meeting about a murder in Vienna, and it was clearly gone for good.  
  
Eve stood on legs that felt like they were made of rubber and took a couple of steps to the chest of drawers across the room. She dragged open the first heavy drawer and took up a handful of socks, crossed back to the bed and tossed them into the suitcase haphazardly.   
  
There was a timid knock at the door and Eve cast wide eyes towards it. She couldn’t take much more today.   
  
“Eve?” Came a voice from the other side. Kenny. It was just Kenny. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Yes, Kenny. Come in.” Eve called back, her voice hoarse from her earlier shrieking at Villanelle.  
  
The door opened and Kenny edged in.  
  
“Um… Tea. For you. Your last cup is across the floor downstairs. I put sugar in this one. For the shock.” he said quietly, handing a hot mug of tea to Eve.   
  
“Sorry Kenny. About the tea. About the… about everything really.” Eve said, sagging down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed once more. Kenny sat himself beside her awkwardly.  
  
“It’s not your fault, Eve.” Kenny murmured.  
  
Eve huffed out a humourless laugh and threw her head back until she was studying the ceiling despairingly.

 

“Sometimes it feels like I’ve been making bad choices all my life.” Eve said expressionlessly.  
  
Kenny didn’t say anything.   
  


“This is all insane, you know that, don’t you? Hired assassins, members of Russian crime syndicates, murder at a country house… This isn’t how people actually live.” Eve said, now deathly calm.  
  
“It’s how my mother lives.” Kenny said darkly. “This is her fault. Not yours. Not even Villanelle’s. She was just doing her job.”  
  
“She didn’t tell me.” Eve whispered.   
  
“I would imagine she was told not to.” Kenny replied, after realising that Eve meant Villanelle, not Carolyn. “And she does seem to follow instructions, one way or another, for all her terrifying faults.” He reasoned.  
  
Eve hummed. That was true. For the most part Villanelle did as she was told, in a round about way. Never the way that anyone would expect, but when it came down to it, Villanelle _did_ follow instructions. In fact, she _needed_ instructions, it was when Villanelle went off piste that situations went awry, like her solo mission to disrupt Eve’s divorce dinner a few weeks back. Now Villanelle frequently asked Eve what she was supposed to do. It had taken some getting used to on Eve’s part. Eve took a sip of her tea. It was too sweet. She never took sugar in her tea. But Kenny was right, she probably was in a bit of shock.  
  
“Do you think she knew about David? Carolyn, I mean.” Eve asked.  
  
Kenny took a moment to consider the question.   
  
“I don’t know. Honestly. It seems… at least feasible that she did. And that’s bad enough, isn’t it?”  
  
“I guess it is, yeah. I’m sorry Kenny.” Eve said sincerely, putting a hand on Kenny’s knee.

 “It’s nothing new.” Kenny shrugged miserably and then paused for a moment, thinking.   
  
“She isn’t infallible though, he might have been playing her as well. Or maybe it goes higher up?” Kenny mused before continuing, “But if it is true… that she  _did_ know, then she lured your… uh… Villanelle here to be killed.”  
  
“Or she didn't know but lured my… Villanelle here to do the killing.” Eve pointed out.   
  
“Either way, I suppose I better do some digging when we all get out of here,” Kenny sighed.   
  
“At least we are all getting out of here,” Eve said sardonically. “Well, all but one of us, I guess.”   
  
Kenny nodded thoughtfully.  
  
“He was a… dickhead though, wasn’t he?” He said with a small smile.   
  
“Oh God, yes. Total dickhead.” Eve agreed, returning Kenny’s smile.  
  
“I’m… uh… I’m glad that Villanelle is OK.” Kenny stammered. And Eve couldn’t hold back her surprised laugh.  
  
“Are you?” she chuckled, raising her eyebrows.  
  
“Of course!” Kenny insisted and then caught the teasing look on Eve’s face. “She really bruised my ankle the other day, you know?” He added. Eve tried to rein in her smile.  
  
“Sorry Kenny.”  
  
Kenny nodded and then looked at Eve uneasily.  
  
“Do you… uh, want a hug?” He asked hesitantly.  
  
Eve was taken aback. She couldn’t imagine many things more awkward than a hug from Kenny but it occurred to her that perhaps _he_ needed a hug.  
  
“Oh… sure.” She replied. She felt Kenny’s arms came up limply around her and she patted him tentatively on the back, their torsos touching lightly. It was a weak hug.  
  
The door opened without a knock and Villanelle appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Eve!” She said, slightly out of breath.  
  
Kenny shot away from Eve on the bed, and Villanelle raised her eyebrows at him. The door opened further and Elena stumbled into the back of Villanelle, jostling her forward somewhat.  
  
“I didn’t mean give her a _literal_ minute, Villanelle. Jesus!” Elena panted, clutching her chest. “Sorry, Eve. She wanted to see you.”  
  
“It’s fine, Elena.” Eve said and Villanelle turned to Elena with an I-told-you-so smile.  
  
“OK, well we’ll just leave you to it then, yeah?” Elena asked Eve. Eve nodded.   
  
“Shout if you need us.” Elena added and Villanelle rolled her eyes.  
  
“She is not going to need you.” Villanelle drawled.  
  
“Yeah, Eve? Just shout.” Elena repeated to Eve, ignoring Villanelle completely. Eve nodded again and Kenny stood up from the bed and crossed the room to Elena, giving Villanelle a wide berth.   
  
“Thank-you Kenny,” Eve said as the two of them headed for the door, “For the tea.” She added. Kenny raised a hand at Eve.  
  
“Yes, thank-you Kenny,” Villanelle sing-songed mockingly, and swung the door closed behind him and Elena.   
  
Eve went back to packing her suitcase, leaving Villanelle hovering just inside the closed door.  
  
“Baby?” Villanelle asked, more cautiously than Eve had ever heard her speak.  
  
Eve hummed, but continued to fold her pyjamas and place them into her suitcase on the bed.  
  
“I think we should talk.” Said Villanelle, using a phrase that sounded unnaturally mature in her mouth and was almost definitely borrowed from a TV show she had watched.  
  
“Do you?” Eve looked up at her suddenly, “Do you think we should talk now?” She asked bitingly.  
  
Villanelle looked surprised at Eve’s tone, evidently unsure how to respond to it.  
  
“Yes…” She said slowly, “I think we should talk now.” She repeated with false confidence.  
  
“You don’t think we should have talked sooner? Perhaps when our host for the weekend asked you to murder another guest? Or maybe when I thought you were trying to _fuck_ that other guest?”   
  
Villanelle’s jaw dropped open a nearly comical amount and a look somewhere between pure disbelief and abject revulsion was plastered across her face.   
  
“I thought you were looking elsewhere because I wouldn’t have sex with you!” Eve ranted, her voice raising in volume steadily.  
  
“It sounds like maybe _you_ should have talked to _me_.” Villanelle muttered, her eyes still dangerously wide.   
  
“What?!” Eve shrieked, “You’re kidding. You have to be fucking kidding!” She shook her head in disbelief and gave up on folding her clothes, now just throwing them into the suitcase as she grabbed them from drawers and the wardrobe in no particular order.  
  
“Eve!” Villanelle called, realising her comment had been precisely the wrong thing to say. “Eve, stop!”  
  
Eve ignored her, storming into the bathroom to collect her toiletries. Villanelle followed on her heels.  
  
“I would never have fucked him, Eve!” Villanelle said vehemently, “I only ever want to fuck you!”  
  
“How charming.” Eve replied scathingly, shoving her toothbrush into a washbag.  
  
“No! I mean, you are the only one I want.” Villanelle vowed.  
  
“It didn’t feel like it,” Eve muttered, snatching her box of tampons from the bathroom counter and returning to the bedroom with Villanelle right behind her.  
  
“Eve, will you stop please?” Villanelle asked desperately.  
  
“Why?” Eve barked, “What can you possibly say? I felt like I was going mad, Villanelle! You did that to me.”  
  
Villanelle stared at Eve, her eyes were stinging and her vision was becoming blurred. There had been a pressure building within her since they arrived for this weekend and it hadn’t been fully released by cutting off ‘David’s’ air supply. Now it was about to burst.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Villanelle croaked.  
  
“Yeah. ‘Sorry baby’, I’ve heard it before.” Eve replied sarcastically, crouching to look beneath the bed for any wayward belongings that were in danger of being left behind.   
  
“Eve!” Villanelle cried. “I _am_ sorry. I only want to make you feel good things. Not like you are going mad. I didn’t think—” she was struggling to talk now, her breath was coming in heaving sobs and the tears that had blurred her vision were now streaking down her cheeks. It felt as though something was constricting her throat and she couldn’t squeeze any words out past it.  
  
“That’s just it! You didn’t think, did—” Eve began angrily, then reappeared from looking under the bed and caught sight of Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle stared back at Eve, a mixture of distraught at the conversation and alarmed at her body’s response to it. The sight stopped Eve short. She had seen Villanelle with a stab wound to her abdomen, doubled over with her hands drenched in her own blood, but she had never seen her look quite this broken. It broke something in Eve as well.  
  
“I could have lost you.” Eve whispered.   
  
Villanelle opened her mouth to respond and nothing came out but a garbled gulping sound. She raised her hand to her hair and raked her fingers through it frantically, her eyes wild and darting about Eve’s face. She shook her head.  
  
“No?” Eve asked.   
  
Villanelle swallowed and dropped her hand from her hair, shaking her head once more.   
  
“I would never leave you.” Villanelle spluttered, “I want to be with you all the time.” A stray sob burst out of her and she looked panicked by its appearance.  
  
Every instinct Eve had was telling her to cross the distance and pull Villanelle into her arms but her feet wouldn’t take her there just yet.  
  
“Do you understand why I’m angry?”   
  
Villanelle nodded, her chin quivering.  
  
“Why am I angry?” Eve probed.  
  
“Because you thought I wanted to fuck that disgusting man.” Villanelle struggled to get out, her face twisting in revulsion. Eve nodded, taking a step closer.   
  
“Any other reason?” She asked  
  
“Because I should have told you about the job. About the contract. About when Carolyn told me to kill… that man.”   
  
Eve felt a mild wave of relief. Villanelle did, at the very least, understand this time. She understood what had upset Eve and she knew what she should have done differently. They’d had arguments before about Villanelle hiding the truth, not sharing important things, but then Eve suspected that Villanelle had only pretended to see things from Eve’s perspective. Now, it seemed, she actually understood.   
  
“Yes,” Eve said, “Because you should have told me—” she began, but Villanelle interrupted.  
  
“And because you thought I might be dead.” Villanelle let out in a rush, as though the thought had just occurred to her. “Earlier.” She clarified. “You thought he could have actually killed me and that scared you.”  
  
“He could have.” Eve argued, feeling a slight tightening in her own throat now.  
  
“I thought of you.” Villanelle whispered.  
  
“What?” Eve asked.   
  
“When he fired that shotgun. I thought he might actually kill me too. And I thought of you.” Villanelle told her, her eyes wide and glassy with tears.  
  
“That’s…” Eve started, “I… I don’t know what to do with that,” Eve sighed. Villanelle shrugged and sniffed, looking away as though embarrassed by what she had said.   
  
Eve crossed the final distance and took Villanelle’s hands in her own, forcing Villanelle to look at her again.   
  
“I can’t lose you.” Eve told her, trying to make her voice as steady as possible. “Not again.”  
  
“Don’t leave me then.” Villanelle let out and Eve gasped.  
  
“I’m not.” Eve said taken aback.

“Your suitcase?” Villanelle nodded to it where it lay almost full on the bed. “We don’t go home until tomorrow.”  
  
“Villanelle! We’re not staying here!” Eve exclaimed.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Villanelle frowned. “You don’t call me that.”  
  
“I do when I’m mad at you.” Eve told her, realising the truth of it.  
  
Villanelle’s eyes were filling with tears again. Eve laughed softly and reached up to wipe away the escaped tears from Villanelle’s cheeks. Now that Villanelle had started crying it seemed she was struggling to stop. Somewhere in the back of her mind Eve wondered how many years worth of tears were stored up in Villanelle, sealed tightly away and guarded ferociously or too timid to appear.  
  
“I do not like it when you are mad at me,” Villanelle admitted pitifully.  
  
“Don’t be a dick then.” Eve told her pointedly. Villanelle looked affronted.  
  
“Eve! I am not a dick.” Villanelle said, wounded. Eve raised her eyebrows as though she was inclined to disagree.  
  
“I try not to be?” Villanelle told her uncertainly. Eve laughed and then groaned.  
  
“Oh God, I think that’s actually true. You really do try, don’t you?” Eve asked. Villanelle nodded solemnly, pulling Eve cautiously into her arms.   
  
“I need to kiss you now, OK?” Villanelle whispered and then pulled back a bit and looked Eve firmly in the eye, “Don’t shout at me.”   
  
Eve laughed and Villanelle captured her lips, cutting off her laughter effectively. Eve felt Villanelle’s body relax in relief against her own, she felt the tension in her own muscles begin to ease as Villanelle kissed her more softly than usual, carefully, as though worried that Eve might break, or might shout at her. One or the other. Eve pulled back.  
  
“You wouldn’t have fucked him?” She whispered, leaning her forehead against Villanelle’s. She needed it confirmed once and for all.  
  
“I thought about cutting his dick off.” Villanelle whispered back, swiping her lips across Eve's desperately.  
  
“Oh God. OK. Point taken.” Eve muttered and leaned in to meet Villanelle’s lips again, taking her plump lower lip between her teeth gently and then soothing it with her tongue. Villanelle groaned.  
  
“Eve,” Villanelle whined against Eve’s lips.  
  
“Mmm?” Eve replied, not wanting to talk anymore, just wanting to reacquaint herself with Villanelle’s mouth. It really did feel like they hadn’t done this for days.  
  
“Baby, can we go home now?” Villanelle asked, her words muffled as she also refused to part from Eve.  
  
“Yeah, yes. Let’s do that.” Eve replied, still busying herself with Villanelle’s lips and this time focussing her attention on the top one, “In a minute.” She added.  
  
“Home to our bed?” Villanelle murmured, “Our… sheets?” she said deliberately, clearly remembering the conversation they’d had when she had caught Eve grabbing tampons out of her suitcase.  
  
Eve chuckled.  
  
“I’m done with that, I think.” she said.  
  
“Really? You are?” Villanelle replied excitedly, her face lighting up as though it hadn’t been crumpled in despair mere minutes earlier.  
  
“Yeah. So you just need to pack your bag and we can—”   
  
Eve felt herself being hoisted into the air by her thighs and shouted in surprise. She wrapped her legs around Villanelle’s waist to remain upright and moments later found her back sinking into the feather duvet on the bed, with Villanelle pressing into her.  
  
“It was too long, Eve.” Villanelle gasped, sucking needy kisses into Eve’s neck and definitely leaving marks.  
  
“I know.” Eve agreed, her hand coming up and tangling in Villanelle’s loose hair, holding her face to her neck and closing her eyes in relief.  
  
“I missed this,” Villanelle hissed, “I missed you.” She nipped Eve’s earlobe and brought a hand down to her waist, shoving her fingers up underneath Eve’s top.  
  
“Me too.” Eve panted, trailing her other hand down Villanelle’s back and into the waistband of her jeans from behind. “Jesus, Oksana. Me too.”  
  
Whilst one of Villanelle’s hands was making its way beneath Eve’s bra, her other took on the task of unbuttoning and unzipping Eve’s trousers. She had just slipped her fingers inside the parted denim when the bedroom door floor open.  
  
“Get off her!” Kenny yelled, brandishing his favoured weapon: the beside lamp. Elena was at his side with a high-heeled shoe clasped menacingly in her grip.   
  
Eve pulled her hand from inside the back of Villanelle’s jeans and left it hovering uselessly in mid-air.  
  
“Get out!” Villanelle bellowed glaring over her shoulder at the intruders, “Why are you here?”  
  
“Oh shit,” Elena laughed, lowering her weaponised shoe to her side. “Oh fuck. Sorry babe,” She let out to Eve through her laughter.  
  
“Elena! She’s got her pinned to—” Kenny started, looking at Elena in disbelief before cutting his words short as Elena raised her eyebrows at him suggestively.   
  
“Oh God. No. I… Oh God.” Kenny stammered as he realised exactly what they had burst in on. He dropped the lamp to the floor with a clunk.   
  
“We heard you shout.” Elena explained apologetically. “I said shout if you need us...”   
  
Villanelle dropped her forehead to Eve’s collarbone and growled dangerously. Her hand was still down the front of Eve’s trousers and Eve shifted then instantly regretted it as a jolt of pleasure ran straight to her core.  
  
“She doesn’t need _you_.” Villanelle said through gritted teeth, not lifting her head.  
  
“Yeah, no, we see that now.” Elena said.  
  
“I didn’t see anything!” Kenny squeaked, his face turned up to the ceiling, so he really couldn’t see anything.  
  
“Thanks guys,” Eve said, finally finding her voice. “I’m fine though.”   
  
“Why are you still in here?” Villanelle snarled.  
  
“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Kenny spluttered, grabbing Elena’s elbow and backing her out of the room, his eyes still firmly averted from the couple on the bed.  
  
“Yeah, apologies.” Elena said, “Enjoy!” She added, raising the shoe that remained in her hand in a sort of salute.  
  
The door shut behind them with a click.  
  
“We really need to go home.” Eve groaned, tucking a strand of honey blonde hair behind Villanelle’s ear.  
  
“Yes please.” Villanelle replied urgently.


	12. I Am Darling

With the promise of long overdue sex, it didn’t take Villanelle much time at all to start cramming her clothes and assorted weaponry back into her designer suitcase. Eve had gone along to Kenny and Elena’s room to tell them that herself and Villanelle were heading back to London, and to smooth things over after the awkward _coitus interruptus_.  
  
Unbeknownst to Villanelle, Eve had failed to shut the door properly on her way out, and a small, rotund, tan figure had waddled in quietly. Villanelle was in the bathroom now, sweeping her various make-up items from the counter and into their bag with a clatter before stealing back into the bedroom to deal with her unnecessary number of shoes. She was just tucking the last pair into her suitcase when movement on the bed caught her eye.  
  
Martin had somehow heaved himself onto the freshly made bed – it had taken several attempts but there were no witnesses, so his dignity was intact – and he was shuffling excitedly right in the middle of it. Villanelle narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
“You.” She said darkly, approaching the bed.   
  
Martin wagged his stump of a tail so enthusiastically his whole body moved with it. Villanelle stood at the edge of the bed and considered the panting dog. Martin was doing everything in his power to resist the urge to jump on her.  
  
“You are really very ugly.” Villanelle told him conversationally.  
  
Martin whimpered with excitement and dropped to his belly, army-crawling towards where Villanelle stood, his back legs sticking out behind him like a frog’s.  
  
“A-ah!” Villanelle exclaimed, holding up a single finger in warning, “I do not want to touch you.” She pulled a face as though she was experiencing a bad smell.  
  
Martin stopped where he was and rested his chin on his front paws, staring up at Villanelle with protruding eyes, the white surroundings of them showing grotesquely. Villanelle knelt so that she was at eye level with him.   
  
“Why does Eve like you?” She asked Martin, puzzled.  
  
Martin said nothing.   
  
“She let you in our bed.” Villanelle reminded him. “I should have done more than kick you out. Horrible animal.” That was muttered more to herself.   
  
“But Eve does like you…” She went on and Martin lifted his head once more and tipped it to one side as though he was listening intently. “Maybe I should buy her one like you. Maybe she would like that.” Villanelle mused.  
  
“Do not buy me a dog.”   
  
Eve was standing in the doorway, watching Villanelle with an amused look on her face. Villanelle looked up at her with a start and Martin saw his chance. He shimmied the final distance to the edge of the bed and launched himself at Villanelle, licking a firm stripe from her chin upwards, catching her lip as he did so.  
  
“Agh!” Villanelle yelled, “Bleurgh!” She wiped frantically at her mouth and shoved Martin to the floor.  
  
“It got my mouth!” She exclaimed at Eve, beyond revolted.   
  
Eve couldn’t fight the laughter that spilled out of her at the look on Villanelle’s face.  
  
“No. You are not having one of those.” Villanelle decided determinedly, as though Eve had been pleading for the opposite outcome.  
  
“Mmm,” said Eve in agreement, “I think you made the right decision there, darling.” She added, humouring the still disturbed-looking Villanelle.  
  
Villanelle nodded firmly.  
  
“Are you ready to go?” Eve asked, eyeing the suitcase at Villanelle’s feet that appeared to be bursting at the seams.  
  
“Yes. We should go now.” Villanelle agreed readily, picking up her suitcase as though it was empty and then grabbing Eve’s and doing the same.  
  
“Good.” Eve breathed.   
  
Eve crouched down to where Martin was still staring up at Villanelle and reached a hand out to pat him on the head. He immediately rolled onto his back and exposed his tummy for rubs. Eve had done this for him before, he remembered. Eve chuckled.  
  
“Goodbye, darling.” Eve murmured to Martin, “Look after yourself.”  
  
Villanelle gave an outraged scoff and Eve looked up at her, still scratching the dog’s belly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“That _thing_ is not darling! I am darling!” She asserted with wide eyes.  
  
Eve shook her head in exhausted amusement and got back to her feet.  
  
“OK _Darling_ , let’s go.” She said pointedly.  
  
Villanelle huffed but followed Eve to the door muttering something about a ‘filthy creature’.  
  
  
  
In the entrance hall, the surviving members of the party had gathered to say goodbye.  
  
“Bye babe,” said Elena, pulling Eve into a heartfelt hug, “Give me a call after Christmas, yeah? We’ll have dinner, the four of us.” She pulled back and gave Eve’s arm a squeeze.   
  
Kenny shot Elena a look that suggested he had agreed to no such dinner plans.  
  
“Sounds good Elena, thanks for everything.” Eve replied nodding gratefully at her friend.  
  
“Villanelle.” Elena said sternly, turning to Villanelle who looked at her in surprise. “Give me a hug.”  
  
“What? No.” Said Villanelle, shaking her head.  
  
“Yes.” Argued Elena. Villanelle looked to Eve for back up, but Eve averted her eyes.  
  
Elena pulled Villanelle to her and held her close while Villanelle’s arms remained resolutely by her side, trapped beneath Elena’s.  
  
“Look after Eve and don’t be a dick.” Elena murmured near Villanelle’s ear. Villanelle squawked in offence and backed out of Elena’s arms, scowling at her.  
  
“I always look after Eve.” Villanelle stated loudly. Eve narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Elena but was then distracted as Villanelle rounded on Kenny.  
  
“Do you want a hug too?” She asked him mockingly. His eyes widened and he backed away, shaking his head frantically, but Villanelle stalked after him.  
  
“No. Uh… No. That’s alright.” He stammered anxiously.   
  
Villanelle caught hold of him and pulled him in close as his arms shot out to either side of him as though in spasm. She squeezed him so tightly he squeaked and then she let him go.  
  
“Th-Thank-you.” He gasped. “I mean, bye then.” He corrected himself and Villanelle cackled delightedly. Eve slapped her on the arm and then gave Kenny a far gentler hug.   
  
There was the sound of a throat being cleared and Carolyn stepped forward.  
  
“Thank-you for joining us, both of you. It was a pleasure.” She said, as though nothing insane and murder-y had occurred that day. As though they weren’t leaving a day early due to an assassination attempt.  
  
Eve looked at her in astonishment and failed to reply, whilst Villanelle just shrugged and nodded like Carolyn’s sentiment seemed perfectly acceptable. Eve turned her incredulous look to Villanelle and then shook her head to herself, blinking rapidly.  
  
“Drive safe!” Elena called, as Villanelle grabbed the suitcases and crunched out into the gravel driveway with Eve trailing behind.  
  
“I always drive safe,” Muttered Villanelle, “Don’t I, baby?” She looked to Eve for confirmation that Eve could not give.   
  
  
  
The drive home passed in much the same way as the drive to the house had done. That felt like weeks ago, when in reality it was just three days earlier. Eve was beyond glad to hop down from the passenger seat of that ridiculous car, back in the relative safety of a residential street in Ealing, West London.   
  
“How about a bath?” Eve called to Villanelle from the doorstep of the house as the younger woman retrieved their suitcases from the boot of the car.  
  
“Wait. Don’t go in yet. I want to check something.” Villanelle replied, slamming the boot shut and locking the car with a single beep before striding up the garden path.  
  
“Check what?” Eve asked in confusion.  
  
“Just. Wait there.” Villanelle insisted, dropping the suitcases haphazardly near her feet and unlocking the front door with her key.  
  
“Fine, but—” Eve started.  
  
Villanelle slipped in without fully opening the door and closed it behind her, leaving a nonplussed Eve on the chilly doorstep as night fell and the street lamps flickered into action. There was a moment’s silence before Villanelle reappeared, popping her head around the door before opening it properly.   
  
“OK. You can come in.” She said with a smile.  
  
“I can come into my own house? Wow. Thanks.” Eve replied sarcastically, shoving past Villanelle in the door way and stomping into the hall.   
  
Villanelle closed the door behind her and stood with a look of delighted expectation on her face.  
  
“What?” Eve asked suspiciously, shaking off her shoes and looking at Villanelle with trepidation.  
  
“Go in there!” Villanelle said, bouncing on the balls of her feet and pointing towards the living room  
  
“OK…” Eve said slowly, shrugging her coat off and letting Villanelle grab it hastily and hang it up on the coat hooks to her side.   
  
Eve stepped into the living room as though expecting a bomb to go off. But it didn’t.  
  
In the corner of the living room was a Christmas tree that certainly hadn’t been there when they left for the weekend. It was real and smelt divine, the star atop its upmost branch was just shy of brushing the ceiling and it was decorated so beautifully it looked as though it would be right at home in the festive window display at Harrods’s. It was covered in warm twinkly lights that provided a soft glow and reflected off lavish red glass baubles, and beneath its branches were a staggering number of exquisitely wrapped gifts. Along the fireplace rested a holly and ivy garland and two handmade stockings were hanging, embroidered with an E and a V. Above the walkway into the kitchen side of the room hung a generous sprig of mistletoe.  
  
“How did you…” Eve breathed as she stood in the doorway. Her house had never looked so festive before. Herself and Niko had never gone to too much effort to dress anything up for Christmas and this was… something else.   
  
“You like it, yes?” Villanelle asked, standing at Eve’s shoulder and looking at her hopefully.  
  
“Of course. It’s beautiful. But how did you do this? _When_ did you do this?” Eve questioned, bewildered.  
  
“I didn’t do it. I got someone else to do it while we were gone.” Villanelle explained. “But I chose all of it.” She added quickly.  
  
“I can tell.” Eve nodded. And she could. Only Villanelle would have picked such luxurious decorations.  
  
“Who did it?” Eve asked curiously.  
  
“I asked in a shop who did their window and then paid them some money to do this.” Villanelle simply.   
  
“How much money?” Eve asked cautiously before deciding better of it, “Actually, don’t tell me that please.”  
  
“OK.” Villanelle agreed a bit too readily.   
  
“Which shop was it? Out of interest…” Eve murmured as she crossed the room to get a better look at the ornaments on the tree.   
  
Aside from the baubles, no two were the same, and they all looked handmade. Soldiers and angels, reindeer, snowflakes… Eve lost track.   
  
“Doesn’t matter.” Villanelle assured her, and Eve shot her a look with an arched eyebrow. “I wanted to do something nice. For Christmas. With you.” Villanelle said, with a breath of vulnerability in her voice.  
  
Eve melted a bit at that. Villanelle had a way of doing that to her. Eve crossed back over to where Villanelle had remained in the doorway, surveying the scene.  
  
“It’s stunning, Oksana. Truly. Thank-you.” Eve said sincerely and Villanelle beamed at her.  
  
Eve was hardly going out on a limb when she suspected that Villanelle probably hadn’t experienced a proper Christmas before and suddenly Eve wanted to give that to her more than anything else.   
  
“I got food delivered too.” Villanelle added excitedly, “Everything for me to make Christmas dinner.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Eve asked amused, “What are we having?”  
  
“Roast Pheasant.” Villanelle replied and Eve looked at her aghast.  
  
“You’re joking, right?” Eve let out.  
  
“No… Why would that be a joke?” Villanelle answered, looking somewhat confused.  
  
“Never mind, darling. Pheasant sounds lovely.” Eve answered softly. Some conversations just weren’t worth having.   
  
“Good.” Villanelle replied, puffing her chest out proudly.   
  
“Now,” Eve began, taking hold of Villanelle’s arms at the elbow and turning her around so she could back her over towards the kitchen, “If you just come over here…”  
  
“Eve. What are you doing?” Villanelle asked, her brows creased in bewilderment as she took steps backwards at Eve’s insistence.  
  
“A bit further,” Eve said, “That’s it.”  
  
“Why are you—” Villanelle started.  
  
“And… stop. There!” Eve finished with a satisfied nod.   
  
“You are very strange, Eve.” Villanelle told her firmly.  
  
“Look up.” Eve whispered.   
  
Villanelle lifted her head to examine the ceiling and found that Eve had placed her directly beneath the sprig of mistletoe tied there with shiny red and gold ribbons.  
  
“Ohhhh,” said Villanelle in realisation then smiled knowingly.   
  
“Am I still very strange?” Eve asked with an amused smirk.  
  
Villanelle leant down towards Eve’s lips.  
  
“Sometimes you are.” Villanelle reasoned, “But I like it.” And she placed a soft, smiling kiss on Eve’s lips before deepening it and pulling Eve against her, forcing Eve to stand on her tiptoes and loop her arms around Villanelle’s neck in order to keep her balance.  
  
After a moment or two Villanelle pulled back.  
  
“They don’t have that in Russia.” She said nodding up at the mistletoe.  
  
“No?” Eve asked.   
  
“Stupid Russia.” Villanelle growled, and leant back down to Eve’s lips once more, Eve laughed before letting herself sink back into the kiss.   
  
  
The kisses under the mistletoe had led to more frantic, needy kisses, which had the couple stumbling out of the kitchen and into the hall, tripping over forgotten suitcases and staggering up the stairs to their bedroom where they had remained for quite some time.  
  
And now, hours later and steeped in a sated and tranquil state, Eve and Villanelle were lounging on the sofa in front of a TV Christmas special that neither of them were watching. Eve had thrown on a pair of Villanelle’s lounge pants and a loose sweater when she left the bedroom in search of a snack and Villanelle had followed closely behind in her robe. With a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine, the two were entwined together comfortably as though to be physically apart might be painful.  
  
Eve leant forward to the coffee table in front of her to pour herself a second glass of wine. She glanced over her shoulder to where Villanelle was drawing lazy loops on her back with a single finger, and held up the bottle to Villanelle with a questioning look.  
  
“Another?” Eve asked, knowing full well what the answer was already. Villanelle appeared to consider the question for a moment.   
  
“Yes.” She concluded. “A small one. Thank-you, Eve.”   
  
Eve hid her surprise and poured out half a glass of red wine for Villanelle before leaning back against the other woman and handing the glass to her, resting her head against her shoulder once more.  
  
“I found your note by the way.” Eve said quietly and she felt Villanelle’s chin nod against the top of her head. “It made no sense.” She added.  
  
“It did.” Villanelle argued.  
  
“What was that thing about a stranger?” Eve asked and then paused, “Did you suspect David already?”  
  
Villanelle raised her eyebrows. That would have been clever of her. Perhaps she should pretend that she had figured David out before he turned a shotgun on her. Would Eve be impressed by that? Or would she be annoyed that Villanelle had still gone to the shoot with him even when she knew? It was probably safer to stick to the truth this time. Or every time perhaps.  
  
“No.” Villanelle admitted. “It’s my name. Oksana. It means Stranger.”  
  
Eve pushed herself into a better position to see Villanelle’s face.   
  
“The name websites said it means ‘Praise be to God’, pretty much what David said. And actually, it would make sense if he did know, now I think of it.” Eve mused, trailing off into her own thoughts.  
  
Villanelle shook her head and took a sip of her wine.  
  
“No. My father said it meant Stranger. He used to tell me that it suited me because I was not welcome.” She said conversationally.  
  
Eve’s heart hurt.   
  
“That’s not very kind.” She said sadly.  
  
“It was true,” Villanelle shrugged and Eve thought it probably was, unfortunately.  
  
“And  _w_ _as_ it your grandmother’s name?” Eve asked, steering the conversation away from such soul-slicing sadness.  
  
Villanelle nodded.   
  
“My mother’s mother. I never met her.”   
  
“What was your mother like?” Eve asked, almost afraid of the answer.  
  
“Gone.” Villanelle replied.  
  
“She died?” Eve asked.  
  
“I don’t know. By now, probably yes.” Villanelle answered as though she hadn’t really thought about it.   
  
“So she left you with your father?” Eve queried. What sort of mother would leave their daughter with an emotionally abusive drunk?   
  
Villanelle just hummed. Eve had thousands more questions she would like to ask but this was the closest she had ever got to having an honest conversation with Villanelle about her past and it was probably best not to push it. Besides, she didn’t want to ruin the warm and cosy mood they had fostered, and talk of abusive parents and childhood abandonment had an awful habit of doing just that.   
  
“I never thought I would be spending Christmas with you.” Eve whispered, resting her head against Villanelle once more and slipping a hand inside her robe to lie warmly on the other woman’s stomach.  
  
“I thought about it a lot.” Villanelle replied with a sigh, lifting a hand to run her fingers softly through Eve’s hair.  
  
“Yeah?” Eve asked, surprised by that. “Since when?”  
  
“Since the start. I wanted all of you, all the time.”  
  
Eve’s stomach lurched pleasantly at that unexpected declaration.   
  
“I thought about buying you a huge birthday cake and lots of balloons, I thought about taking you on holidays and you wearing a bikini on the beach,” Villanelle said with a smile, Eve laughed heartily.  
  
“What else?” Eve prompted.  
  
“I thought about living here with you and waking up with you in the morning. I knew I would have to kill the husband, but that would be fine.” Villanelle reasoned.  
  
“Uh… Would it?” Eve asked sceptically.  
  
“Perhaps not?” Villanelle replied uncertainly.  
  
“Definitely not.” Eve confirmed.  
  
“Well, I didn’t do it.” Villanelle pointed out, rather unnecessarily.   
  
“How kind of you,” Eve said sarcastically, “Thank-you.”  
  
“You are welcome.” Villanelle nodded, and then carried on, “I thought about going to meet your parents—”  
  
“My father died.” Eve interrupted.  
  
“Oh.” Villanelle stated blankly. She hadn’t known that. “Well, I thought about going to meet your mother.” she amended.  
  
“Did you?” Eve asked. Villanelle had never mentioned anything of the sort.  
  
“Yes. And fucking you in your childhood bed.” Villanelle explained.  
  
“Of course.” Eve said flatly. And yes, that made more sense.   
  
“And I thought about Christmas with you. The tree, the food, buying you presents, this.” Villanelle murmured.   
  
“This?” Eve asked.   
  
“Just this. I like this. Being here.” Villanelle said through a sigh.  
  
“I like it too.” Eve agreed truthfully.   
  
A little part of her brain, a part that refused to behave, kept reminding Eve how different this Christmas could have been. Not how different it would be if she hadn’t left her husband and chased Villanelle across Europe, but how different it would be if David had skewed left and Eve had lost her whole life in the blink of a bullet.  
  
“This show is shit.” Villanelle said bluntly, raising a hand towards the TV and jostling Eve out of her thoughts. Eve had been barely aware that the television was on, she certainly hadn’t been assessing the quality of its offering. She hummed in response.   
  
“Want to go back upstairs?” Eve asked. After all, she was determined to make this Christmas perfect for Villanelle, and there was one sure-fire way to do that. And yes, Eve certainly wouldn’t be against that particular pastime either.  
  
“No.” Villanelle replied simply. Eve was taken aback.  
  
“No? You don’t want to—” Eve started in pure confusion. Villanelle pulled away from Eve so she could see her.  
  
“Do you know we have never fucked on this sofa?” Villanelle asked as though it was absolute madness that her statement was true. Eve smiled in realisation.  
  
“Really?” She asked in a mock tone of disbelief.  
  
“Really.” Villanelle nodded gravely.  
  
Eve put her glass of wine on the coffee table and then reached for Villanelle’s to do the same. Villanelle shifted excitedly.  
  
“Well, that’s not right at all.” Eve said with a knowing smile and Villanelle shook her head emphatically.   
  
Eve pushed Villanelle back against the sofa cushions and climbed into her lap. She leant down and placed open-mouthed kisses against Villanelle’s jaw before pulling back and looking into Villanelle’s eager eyes.   
  
“Merry Christmas, darling.” Eve said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, wouldn't that have been a nice ending if I had managed to finish this while it was still Christmas? Oh well, can't win 'em all, kids!
> 
> Disclaimer: A half-arsed Google search couldn't confirm either way whether Mistletoe is a thing in Russian Christmas traditions, so let's just pretend it isn't for the sake of that one line. 
> 
> So that's a wrap on this story and, as it stands, on this series too. Thank-you to everyone who has read it, enjoyed it, given it kudos and sent me your wonderful thoughts and comments, I have really loved reading them all and hearing what you guys thought along the way. Thanks for coming along for the ride.


End file.
